


Novak Vs. Winchester

by Secretlyademigodinthetardis



Series: I couldn't resist [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Romantic Comedy, Alternate Universe - Roommates/Housemates, Balthazar is a dick, Caring Castiel, Cheating, Cheating Balthazar, Dead John and Mary, Dead Sam, Dean in Hospital, Domestic Castiel/Dean Winchester, Drug Addict Sam, Drug Addiction, Dry Humping, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Falling In Love, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Smut, Frottage, Hate to Love, Humour, Hurt Dean Winchester, Hurt/Comfort, Like woah angst, M/M, Male Homosexuality, Masturbation, Mechanic Dean Winchester, Mutual Pining, Nightmares, Other people meddling, Protective Castiel, Protective Dean Winchester, Romantic Comedy, Sexual Tension, Slow Build, Slow Build Castiel/Dean Winchester, Teacher AU, Teacher Castiel, Teacher Dean, Unbeta'd I repeat UNBETA'D, Unresolved Romantic Tension, slow build destiel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-07
Updated: 2014-07-10
Packaged: 2018-01-18 11:39:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 19
Words: 41,006
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1427134
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Secretlyademigodinthetardis/pseuds/Secretlyademigodinthetardis
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Castiel, high school History teacher, has recently moved back to Kansas from England with his boyfriend, Balthazar. However, he instantly clashes with Dean Winchester, who also teaches at Lawrence High and is still mourning the loss of his brother. Their mutual aggresssion towards one another is lost when dramatic events occur, and they're left to deal with the aftermath.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Personal Issues and World War 2

**Author's Note:**

> Also posted on my ffn.net account, updating every Friday (or Sunday, depends on how I feel). Was actually vaguely inspired by this tumblr post: http://buckyfrost.tumblr.com/post/62929987413/at-my-school-theres-an-english-teacher-and-an

Castiel sighed tiredly as he entered the school building, hurrying as he knew he was already late for work. His trench coat flapped out behind him as he ran down the school hallway, knowing exactly how undignified he looked but unable to care. He burst into the classroom where he taught History, and stopped short at the sight that greeted him.

"And then Hitler was all 'actually, I want Russia too', and decided to be a complete dick, go back on the pinky promise he'd made with Stalin, and do the dumbest thing he ever did – invade Russia in winter. As if Napoleon hadn't managed to fuck that one up already."

The class tittered, and Castiel scowled at the man who sat on his desk, swinging his legs.

"Mr Winchester."

Dean Winchester turned to the doorway, smirking – without any actual friendship in his gaze. Castiel glared back.

"Hey, Novak. You're late, so Pam asked me to cover your class."

"I gathered as much. I am here now, shouldn't  _you_  be teaching your own class?"

Dean hopped off the desk, Castiel making a mental note to sanitise where he had been sat.

"Got a free period, thought I could help out where  _some_  teachers don't quite make it up to scratch, even if they have a fancy ass British degree," the man said, and now the class was enthralled in the conversation happening before them between the two men – Mr Winchester, Kansas born and bred, and Mr Novak, a man who had wound up going to Oxford when he was 19, after his family had moved to England when he was 10 years old, then moving back to America with his partner, Balthazar. The two of them had instantly hated one another – Castiel taking a dislike to Dean's rough, brazen manner, Dean forcefully telling Castiel to 'get that damn stick outta your ass – oh wait, it's your boyfriend's dick and you're completely ruled by it'.

A redhead in the second row turned to Jo, the blonde girl next to her, whispering "I ship it".

Dean, without moving his gaze from where he stood glaring at Castiel, snapped, "I heard that Bradbury! I'll see you in Shop class!" before stalking out of the room. Castiel sighed and made his way over to his desk, carefully avoiding the spot where Dean had been sitting. He straightened up and shuffled his papers.

"Alright, class, where were we up to?"

* * *

Dean made his way to the school's carpark, where his classroom was. The garage backed out of the tech block into the parking lot, and he could already see his baby parked there, waiting for him. He slid into his '67 Chevy Impala, lying down across the front seat and switching on the old cassette player.

He had an hour to kill before morning break, and then after break he had to teach.

May as well enjoy his free time.

The familiar strains of Led Zeppelin washed over him and he closed his eyes.

"Fucking Novak," he thought. He didn't know why the guy pissed him off so damn much. Well, he did, but it was still enough to send Dean's mind spinning every time they interacted. Cas – Dean mentally called him that – was blunt, rude, and obnoxiously British even though he'd been born here. It was like he'd had it out for Dean since Day 1, when he'd told Dean that he was being an 'arrogant twat'. Who the hell spoke like that anyway? All Dean had been doing was telling Lisa – the bitchy guidance counsellor – exactly where she could stick her damn therapy she was offering. Dean didn't need therapy, he was coping just fine.

Lisa could stick it.

And it was none of Novak's damn business, which Dean had forcefully told him before then informing him that he needed to get the stick removed from his ass.

Dean definitely did not think about how damn good said ass looked in the fitted slacks the asshole wore to work every day.

Because Dean had definitely  _not_  been checking it out.

At all.

Dean scowled at the roof of his car. This was not helping. Just as he reached over to turn up the volume even more, there was a tap at his window. He rolled over, only to see the very face he had been wanting to punch peering in at him with a faint frown. Dean sat up and opened the door of the Impala, letting the music that had been leaking out pour into the parking lot.

"What do you want, Novak?"

Castiel actually – miracle of miracles! – showed signs of emotion, looking at Dean with a black expression before replying.

"Mr Winchester, I feel I need to ask you to refrain from cursing in front of my students. While you are free to do so within your own lessons, I do not encourage such behaviour in my classroom, and you undermined my authority by swearing. Please do not do so again."

"Well, good thing I don't give a shit about your 'authority', isn't it, Novak?" Dean shot back. Seriously? He was asking him not to swear? "And maybe you wouldn't have this problem if you actually showed up on time!"

Castiel rolled his eyes.

"I was running late,  _Winchester,_  because of personal reasons- -"

"Yeah, yeah. Too busy getting fucked by your boyfriend?"

Castiel finally gave in to temptation, slamming Dean against the side of his car and bracing his elbow across the well-toned (Castiel determinedly ignored how those muscles felt through the worn shirt Dean was wearing) torso. Actually, his lateness did have something to do with Balthazar. However, it had involved a heated yelling match, Balthazar griping over the fact that Castiel 'never had time for him anymore', simply because Castiel now had a job and was not forced to rely upon Balthazar's income. Balthazar had even asked Castiel to quit the job he loved, simply because he wanted Castiel to be dependent upon him again. Hence the argument, which ended with Castiel storming out of their newly bought house and leaving Balthazar to do God knows what.

Castiel really did not have the patience to deal with Dean Winchester and his bullshit today, regardless of how good-looking the man was. He leaned in so that he was snarling into the perfectly formed shell of Dean's ear. Dean repressed the shudder of arousal that threatened him at the feel of having Castiel so close to him, and the way his breath caressed Dean's skin.

"Do not dare to presume you know anything about my life, Winchester," he growled. "I have had enough of your arrogance and your unfortunate stereotypically American attitude towards me, when all I did was ask you to show some common courtesy to your co-worker, to last me a lifetime. Kindly leave me the  _fuck_  alone, before I do something I will regret."

He turned and stalked back in the direction of the staff room, leaving Dean to slump against his car in astonishment before picking himself up.

"Hey! Hey, asshole!"

But Castiel simply ignored him and continued walking, trench coat flapping out behind him. Dean, all of his bottled up frustration, anger and pain from the past few months finally surfacing, slammed the door of the garage, before picking up a crowbar and slamming it into the hood of the scrapped car he had bought off Bobby for a school project.

He spent the rest of the morning break doing that, until the bell rang and he realised that he had a class coming. He sighed, and quickly swept the broken glass from the floor before straightening his shirt.

_Fucking Novak._


	2. I Could Use A Drink

Dean finally entered the Roadhouse that evening, slumping down at the bar with his head in his hands.

"Ellen, can I get a beer?" he asked wearily. Ellen looked him over before putting a bottle in front of him.

"What's wrong, kid?"

Dean grunted. "You don't wanna know."

"Talk to me, Dean. You look like shit, and I wanna know why so that my kid doesn't have a teacher who is permanently hungover!"

He grimaced. "Long day. First I had to cover Novak's damn classes, then the shithead decides to fucking attack me, and  _then_  some kid managed to start a fire in the workshop and I almost lost my office. I'm just really tired, and really pissed, and I need a drink. Okay?"

Ellen pursed her lips before going to serve more customers.

* * *

Now on his third beer, Dean felt a hand clamp down on his shoulder. He looked up into the face of his practically adopted father, and the only real family he had left, Bobby Singer. Dean looked back down at the wooden surface of the bar.

"Hey, Bobby."

"Dean. Let's go home." And without saying another word, Bobby hauled Dean out the bar, nodding at his wife in thanks for calling him. Ellen winked, causing Bobby to blush as he followed Dean outside. They drove back to Dean's house in silence – a five minute drive, due to the proximity of the Roadhouse – and it was only when Dean turned to leave that he asked in a low voice, "can you come in, Bobby? I don't wanna be alone right now."

Concerned, Bobby agreed before cutting out the engine and heading up to Dean's front door.

Once inside, Bobby sat at the small, circular dining table while Dean grabbed two more beers out the fridge and set one in front of him.

"What's going on?"

Dean's gaze didn't shift from the bottle he grasped with both hands.

"It's almost been ten months. This Saturday."

_Oh._

"I know. But that doesn't change anything. He's still gone, Dean. Don't go back to how you were, it won't do any good."

"He's my brother, Bobby. And I just….I couldn't stop him. I couldn't save him, and those dicks are still out there. And my brother's dead. It's my fault. Why did they all leave me behind?" A small sob escaped Dean before he could stop it, and he tightened his grip on the beer before taking a swig. Bobby sighed.

"Look, kid. None of this shit was your fault. Your parents are dead, and it sucks. Sam's dead, and it sucks. But you can't change that, and drinking isn't gonna solve it or bring them back. So make that your final beer, stop moping, and focus on your damn job!"

A shrug, and Bobby sighed.

"Go to bed, Dean."

Dean shrugged once more before dragging himself off to his bedroom, with a brief pause at the doorway to the second bedroom. The door stayed shut, as if screaming out the fact that Dean's younger brother would never open it again, or slam it after an argument with his brother/flatmate. Dean continued to his room, the door giving a small creak before snapping shut. Bobby cleared the kitchen, and settled on the couch to doze for a few hours before heading home to sleep.

Dean lay on his back in bed and stared at the ceiling, miserable.

* * *

Little did he know, Castiel was in exactly the same position. The History teacher lay on the queen sized bed Balthazar had bought in a moment of extravagance, sticking firmly to his side and ignoring the snores emanating from the couch in the living room. After Castiel had returned home, Balthazar had decided to blow up once more and resume their argument from that morning, yelling about how Castiel never had time for him anymore and how Balthazar had never wanted to move to America anyway and why was he even wasting his time with Castiel anyway? Castiel had remained stoic during this outburst – it was simply the latest in a long line, and then quietly informed Balthazar that after cooking dinner for the both of them ("Which I do every night without fail after working for 8 hours straight while you watch television for the majority of your time, Balthazar), he would remain in their 'shared' bedroom that Balthazar hardly slept in, and stay there for the night ("You may spend the evening how you please, however I will remain out of your way considering the fact that you regret 'wasting your time' with me").

The enormous bed felt more cold and alone than ever, and Castiel finally drifted off into an uneasy, unhappy sleep.

* * *

Weeks passed. The two men had reached a silent, mutual agreement to never discuss what had happened in the parking lot, and to simply avoid one another. They exchanged curt nods in the hallway, and Dean couldn't help the twinge in his stomach as he saw the weariness in Castiel's face, and the way he held himself – tired and emotionally drained.

_Why the hell should I care anyway._

_I don't care._

_At all._

Dean focused on teaching, trying to find solace in the happiness students were getting from his teaching. Their grins and enthusiasm hurt however, reminding him too much of Sam before the bad days and before their lives went to shit. He drank more and more every night, needing to restock the beer supply in his fridge on an almost daily basis. He didn't go to the Roadhouse – Ellen would definitely rat him out to Bobby, and then the shit would really hit the fan – preferring to drink in the silence of his own home.

He definitely did  _not_  think about the way Castiel's hands shook slightly when he was drinking his coffee during break, or the way the man flinched at the sound of yelling from the cafeteria.

And he certainly didn't dream about kissing Castiel, running his hands underneath that douchey trenchcoat, and about Castiel opening him up, before –

No. Dean didn't do that at all. Because the guy was a complete and utter dick, no matter how vulnerable and worried he looked on a permanent basis. And Dean did not, repeat  _not_ , care.

Not one single bit.

For his part, Castiel kept his head down. Balthazar became more and more volatile as he was continually turned down for jobs, and he drank more. He got angrier, sometimes throwing empty bottles at Castiel in the middle of yet another fight. They found more things to hate about one another – Balthazar leaving the toilet seat up, Castiel not understanding film references, simple things that should have remained insignificant but were instead drawn out. Each flaw they resented was hung up and dissected, leaving both of them miserable. Castiel slept alone every night, and he knew his students could detect his red eyes and depressed demeanour.

One night, he realised.

He didn't love Balthazar anymore. Wasn't sure if he ever had. Balthazar had swept him off his feet in a moment of lust and madness, and now they were both paying the price. He did still care for the man, and regretted dragging the Brit to Kansas – so far out of his comfort zone it was small wonder Balthazar resented him.

He found that he began to miss the altercations between himself and Dean. The attractive, green eyed man haunted his thoughts, and Castiel had the burden of guilt on top of everything else to cope with now. He refused to dwell on it, blocking out thoughts of Dean holding him and comforting him like he knew he was capable of, and sunk himself deeper into his work. He barely spoke to anyone at work now, and when he passed Dean in the hallways he only allowed himself to give a brief nod before plunging himself back into a dense fog of despair.

Why had everything gone so wrong?

* * *

Two months later, it was a Friday. Dean took the day off work, and visited the cemetery.

Parking the Impala close by, he walked to the lonely tombstone and halted before laying down a bunch of lilies. He cleared his throat.

"Hey, Sammy," a lump began to form, forcing him to swallow, "I know, lilies, right? Kinda sappy, but that's me I guess. Crunchy on the outside, and a pathetic mess underneath."

Dean paused.

"I'm sorry, Sammy. I'm sorry that Mom and Dad died. I'm sorry I was the only one apart from Bobby that stuck around to raise you. I'm sorry I let you down, and that you died because of it. I'm sorry I let you go so far off the reservation, and I'm sorry I couldn't save you. I'm so fucking sorry, Sammy. I'm sorry I couldn't stop it from killing you. I miss you every damn day, and I'm so alone now."

He ran a hand through his hair, feeling the tears fall from his eyes and land on the rumpled black suit he wore.

"It's been a whole fucking year and I'm still lost and alone. And if you were alive I know you'd probably hate me. So I guess I'm sorry about that too."

Dean lifted up his last beer from his cupboard – he'd been saving it – off the ground, and opened it. He toasted the sky, and poured a measure out onto the soil.

"It's not what you were hooked on, but I figured you could use a drink. Because I sure as hell could."

Dean left the cemetery after another hour, driving towards the Roadhouse with determination.


	3. The Shit Hath Hitteth The Fan

Castiel had never been more grateful for the fact that it was a Friday. He managed to get off an hour early – he had no classes final period – and drove home, hoping he would be able to get in a decent nap before he told Balthazar what had been a long time coming – they would be better apart.

He pulled up outside their home in his rundown Toyota and struggled inside with his briefcase before pausing. Soft Italian opera was playing upstairs, floating down into the living room.

 _What?_  Castiel thought, quietly making his way up the narrow stairs after placing his briefcase by the front door. He opened the door to his and Balthazar's bedroom where the music was emanating from.

"Balthazar?"

His naked boyfriend was on the enormous bed, frozen halfway through thrusting into a dark haired woman, with another nude woman kissing him, this one blonde. The three of them stared at Castiel as he stood there, paralysed at the sight of the tableau before him. Then Balthazar spoke.

"Cassie? It…I….it's not….?"

"Don't call me Cassie." Castiel darted into the room, blindly grabbing at his possessions before running back downstairs. Balthazar followed, a pillow clamped over his groin.

"Come on, Cassie! Don't be like this!"

"I said  _don't call me that! You know I hate it! I always have!_ And what the hell am I supposed to 'be like'?!" Castiel yelled, losing control after weeks of being ground down. Balthazar glared at him.

"I don't know, maybe if you paid more attention to me, this wouldn't be happening! Or have happened ten times before this!" he yelled back. Castiel ran upstairs, ignoring the two women who were dressing themselves in favour of grabbing armfuls of his clothing. He finally found a couple of suitcases, and began to shove everything in them hastily. Balthazar hovered nearby, finally having pulled some boxers on.

"What are you doing, Castiel?" he asked, derision evident in his voice despite the fact that he was finally using Castiel's full name.

"I'm leaving, Balthazar. I can't do this anymore. Send me the rest of my stuff and go back to England, we're done," Castiel gabbled. "Don't bother getting dressed, I'll be out of your hair soon so you can continue."

Balthazar snorted. "And where would I send your stuff  _to_?"

"I don't care! Anywhere you're not!" Castiel tugged his cases out the door, and loaded them into the car. "I was going to do this properly, but you ruined all chances of that happening. Goodbye Balthazar." He climbed into the small car, not caring that the neighbours were watching, and sped off.

_What do I do what do I do what do I do WHAT DO I DO?!_

* * *

It was 3:30 in the afternoon, and Dean was really loving the way his world was tilting to the left….wait. Tilting too much. He heard a thump, and realised it was the sound of him hitting the floor, everything now being horizontal.

He wasn't at the Roadhouse anymore – Ellen would have killed him by now – instead he'd gone to Purgatory, the seedy bar at the other end of town. Dean blinked as he felt a pair of arms heft him up to his feet. "Walk it off, brother, go home. It's too early for you to be in this state," a voice said gruffly in his ear.

"Nah, man….Sammy would be pissed if I stopped now! Gotta keep going!" Dean slurred, losing his balance once more and landing on his face. "He used to love this place!" he said into the hard wooden floor.

"Whatever, dude. You can't stay here," the disembodied voice said, and Dean found himself being unceremoniously dumped outside, still clutching a bottle of beer. He managed to stumble into the nearest alleyway, and vomited all over the wall.

"Sammy!" he yelled, relishing the echo it caused. "Sammy – oh wait, you're dead. My bad."

He snorted with laughter before collapsing into tears and curling in on himself. He sank down against the wall, hugging his knees.

"Sammy…Sammy…" he whimpered. Two shadows loomed above him.

"Well, if it isn't our least favourite little Winchester," a nasal voice said, and Dean raised his throbbing head.

"Alastair, Azazel. Fuck off."

"Oh, I don't think we will, Dean-o. You see, your baby bro still owed us money when he bit it, and you're gonna pay us back," Azazel snarled, and soon his golden eyes filled Dean's vision, and there was just pain, pain and more pain, while Alastair just laughed nasally before there was a flash of silver. Dean, pinned against the wall by Azazel's fist, felt his eyes widen in terror before there was a white hot sensation. He felt himself croak in pain, and through the haze of alcohol and pain there was the feeling of steel slicing through skin as Alastair opened his shirt and started carving into his chest.

Just as Dean began to pass out from the pain, feeling the red hot blood weep down his body, he heard an oddly familiar voice shout, "What the fuck are you doing?"

* * *

Castiel had been driving for half an hour, and he was getting nowhere. He bit his lip worriedly, wondering if he'd been too hasty in leaving. Then the image of Balthazar with the two women flashed behind his eyes lids, and his lips set in a firm line and he kept driving around aimlessly. He found himself outside a bar he vaguely recognised, the name – Purgatory – in a terrible obnoxious purple over the entrance.

_I could use a drink._

He extracted himself from the car and began to walk to the bar, when he heard a scuffling noise, accompanied by grunts and an awful laugh. Castiel peered into the alleyway he was walking past. There was a familiar man pinned to the wall, with the laughing man carving into him with a knife, the other attempting to break his legs. Castiel reacted automatically.

"What the fuck are you doing?!" He roared, and ran towards them. Without even thinking about it, he punched the man with the knife, who staggered into the wall before passing out. The second man managed to punch him in the jaw, before Castiel grabbed the back of his head and slammed his face into the wall where the tortured man had been pinned seconds before and he lost consciousness.

Speaking of which….

He bent down and checked the injured man, before realising who it was and reeling in shock.

"Dean?"

Dean Winchester opened his eyes to piercing blue.

"Cas?" he rasped, before his vision went black and he lolled in Castiel's arms. Castiel plunged his hand into his pocket, and dialled 911.

* * *

The ambulance siren was screaming, and it was really beginning to pound into Castiel's skull. However, he sat by Dean, who was on his back on the gurney, still unconscious. The paramedics ad managed to stop the blood loss, and were checking for internal bleeding and making sure he hadn't suffered any brain damage. Dean gasped, and his eyes focused on Castiel.

"Are you an angel? You look like an angel. You're like my guardian angel, Cas," was all that he said, before passing out again. Everyone looked at Castiel, who shrugged. However, once their attention was back on Dean, his hand crept out, and grasped Dean's limp appendage in his own.

Dean remained unconscious the rest of the way to the hospital, and Castiel didn't let go of his hand.

* * *

Dean floated. He dreamed of back when he was a chubby four year old, and of his mom making apple pie with a smile as his dad hugged him. He dreamed of the night they died, their mother dead on the floor with John Winchester next to her, asking Dean to look after Sam.

 Dean never saw them again.

He dreamed of finding Sam in his bedroom, inserting a needle into his veins with a fierce determination. Dean had screamed at him, and Sam had screamed right back.

He dreamed of the day he had run upstairs to find his baby brother, unconscious on the bedroom floor, not breathing.

He dreamed of how he had failed to save every single member of his family, and Dean screamed.

* * *

As he drifted through his memories, feeling like he was drowning in a bottomless ocean, he also listened to a voice. He had no idea where it came from, but it spoke in low, gravelly tones, piercing through the fog of Dean's mind with a vivid clarity.

_I had to cover your final class today, I hope you're grateful._

_I know nothing about cars, you ass._

_And on top of all that, I had to grade my student's paper's, and let me tell you exactly how many of them quoted you when they discussed how Hitler invaded Russia. If I never have to read 'Hitler went back on the pinky promise he made with Stalin' again, it'll be too soon._

_I broke up with Balthazar. I dunno why I'm telling you, it's not like you even care about me. I just have no one else to tell._

_I'm living in a fucking motel._

_Dean?_

_Wake up._

_Please._

And Dean struggled to the surface, trying to find the owner of that elusive, enchanting voice.

* * *

The first thing Dean was aware of was a soft beeping off to his left. The second this was a measured, relaxed breathing, and a slight weight on the….whatever he was on. The third thing, as he opened his eyes, was a really boring white ceiling. Then he realised there were tubes in his nose, and he looked around.

He was in a hospital bed, with a bunch of different machines beeping next to him on the left. He looked to his right, and was shocked by the sight that he saw.

Castiel freaking Novak was asleep in a chair next to his bed, trenchcoat and worn suit on, head resting right next to where his hand lay. Dean stared in complete bafflement –  _what the fuck is happening how the fuck did I get here why the fuck is he here_  – before raising his hand and brushing Castiel's hair off the side of his face. Castiel shifted slightly, and his eyes opened. His brilliant blue eyes looked at Dean's hand, before they travelled up Dean's arm and looked at his face, where Dean was frozen.

"You're awake."

"Um. Yep." Dean said stupidly.

"I should probably get a nurse."

"Yep. You do that." Dean lowered his hand and Castiel stood up slowly before leaving the room.

Dean stared at his traitorous hand and let his head flump back into the pillow.

_Fuck._


	4. Recovering - Slowly

Castiel was soon back with a nurse, who smiled cheerfully at him as she checked his vitals.

"Good to see you awake, Mr Winchester," she said, and Dean frowned.

"What the hell happened? Why am I here?"

Castiel and the nurse stared at him.

"What do you remember, sir?" she asked carefully. Dean's brow furrowed.

"I remember getting drunk. I remember seeing Alastair and Azazel. And….." he hesitated for fear of sounding insane.

"And?" the nurse prompted.

"Was there like….an angel or something there? I remember blue," he said, and Castiel flushed red. The nurse looked from one man to another.

"Well from what I understand, your boyfriend here was passing by and saw what happened. He took them out and then called the cops and an ambulance, and stayed with you the whole way here. He's been here every day, you know, bringing in your fanmail."

"Oh, I'm not-"

"He's not-"

"We're not together," the pair of them said, refusing to look at each other. The nurse raised her eyebrows, and Dean cast his eyes around. It was then that he noticed the cards that were arranged on his bedside table, all saying variations of "Get Well Soon!" He supposed that was what the nurse meant by 'fanmail'.

"Oh, I'm sorry, my mistake." The nurse – Nurse Robinson, her nametag read – said. "Mr Winchester, when you arrived we were forced to pump your stomach. We also had to treat you for multiple lacerations upon your torso, stop internal bleeding caused by rib fractures, and set your fractured knee."

Dean went pale. "How long have I been here?"

"Two weeks. You were unconscious upon arrival and had to be resuscitated, before becoming comatose for a fortnight."

Dean had a sudden flash of memory – the wailing of sirens, his lungs constricting, low voices quietly asking one another what the chances of survival were. The thing that stood out the most, though, was the memory of a voice that sounded as if it gargled with gravel every morning, screaming at them to  _keep him alive goddamnit or I swear I will kill all of you just keep him the fuck alive._

He looked at Castiel, who was staring determinedly at a blank patch of space on the ceiling.

"Um, thanks," he told the nurse. "So am I just….gonna be here for a while?"

She smiled sympathetically.

"Yes, unfortunately. We just need to keep you here to ensure full recovery. Should be two more weeks, considering your speedy improvement already."

"What about my classes?!" Dean tried to sit up, but was restrained by the various equipment connected to him. "What about the assholes that did this to me?! I've been here two weeks and that's two weeks too long!"

"Dean," Castiel finally said. "I've been taking care of your classes. The school understands, and you've been on paid leave the whole time you've been here. The police arrested the men who assaulted you, and their trial is soon. Please, relax and allow these people to do their jobs."

"Why the hell do you care?" Dean shot at him, partially out of anger, but also out of genuine curiosity. Castiel blinked.

"I…..I'm not sure. Your Uncle, Robert Singer, has been here a lot. I….I should probably go now. I'm glad you're feeling alright, Dean." And Castiel swept out of the door, leaving Dean even more confused. Nurse Robinson gave him a tight smile and finished ensuring that he was properly connected to the various machines next to him, before exiting the room. Dean lay in bed for a while, feeling helpless, confused and angry, before exhaustion took him and he slipped into a natural sleep.

* * *

Once more, Dean was dreaming. There were flashes of bright blue, mixed with the sensation of being safe and warm, before coalescing into a room filled with soft light.

_Dean looked around. He was lying across his old, worn couch, his head resting in someone's lap. He looked at his substitute pillow, and saw a pair of faded jeans. Registering the long, nimble fingers running through his hair gently, he looked up into a familiar face._

" _You're awake! This is surprising, last time we watched this, you fell asleep on me."_

" _Who says I wasn't sleeping?" Dean teased, pulling Castiel down for a gentle kiss. The two parted, smiling, and Dean turned his attention to the television, which was playing War Horse._

" _You do know you'll cry like a baby, and I'll be the one that has to make you tea and then coddle you the rest of the night?" he asked, amused. Castiel huffed and continued to play with Dean's hair, effectively silencing him as he gently began to massage the back of his neck and head._

" _Yes, but you enjoy it," he said. "Also, Bobby and Ellen are going to be here tomorrow with Jo, so you're going to clean the kitchen while I try and make the living room semi-presentable."_

" _Okay," Dean muttered into Castiel's lap._

_The two of them sat there, and Dean closed his eyes in contentment._

* * *

Dean awoke to a dark hospital room. Looking out the window, he saw the sky dotted with stars. He checked the clock next to him.

3:00am

He sighed as he recalled the dream - domestic bliss with the guy who hated him, but had saved his life and been there every day with his comatose self for a fortnight.

_I am so screwed._

* * *

Bobby showed up around noon the next day, arms folded. Dean instinctively shrank back into his pillows.

"Uh, hey Bobby."

"Don't 'hey Bobby' me, idjit!" Bobby snarled. "Seriously, Dean? You go to the worst possible place in town, the place where Sam met those dickheads, and then you get shitfaced just so they can beat the crap outta you? The hell were you thinking, boy?"

Dean winced, before staring stonily into his lap.

"I was thinking about Sam okay? I was thinking about how he looked when I found him, and about how everyone goes. I was thinking about how no one gives a shit anymore."

Bobby exhaled heavily and sat down.

"Don't be so thickheaded, Dean. I care. Ellen cares. Your kids care. And that friend of yours cared one hell of a lot by the looks of things."

"What?"

"That Novak guy? Every damn day he was in here, watching you and talking to you. For at least two hours. He brought those cards from your students, he brought in his work so he could grade papers while he sat here with your boring, unconscious ass."

Now Dean was more confused than ever.

"But…why?"

"Don't ask me, I can't see the fun in that. But he did. So don't you dare say no one cares, because a helluva lotta people do!"

The two of them sat in silence for a while, and Dean felt himself grow more and more ashamed.

"I'm sorry, Bobby."

"Good," Bobby said gruffly, and Dean knew that he was forgiven.

* * *

Bobby left an hour later, after catching Dean up on everything that had happened – Bobby had taken care of Dean's practical classes, while Castiel and Lisa had covered his theoretical. Dean was shocked (Novak hated him! Why was he being so nice?!) – and Dean had complained at length about having to stay in bed for another two weeks.

"Two weeks! I'm gonna get fat!" he moaned, pinching his stomach. Bobby rolled his eyes.

"Your addiction to pie is what's gonna get you fat, boy, not bedrest."

"You shut your mouth about pie! It is a glorious creation and that is blasphemy!" Dean cried, pointing at him.

By the time he left, Dean was in a much better mood, and he absently twiddled his thumbs.

There was a knock on the door, and his eyes widened as he looked up.

Castiel Novak stood in the doorway uncertainly.

"Castiel?"

"Hello, Dean. Is it ok if I come in?"

"Um, sure man, have a seat." Dean's mind spun as he searched for a reason as to why the man was here. "What's up?"

Once more, Castiel wasn't looking at him, and Dean was really missing the feel of those blue eyes upon him.

"I feel I should apologise. I was in here regularly without your knowledge, and this was an invasion of your privacy. I'm sorry."

Dean couldn't help it – he gawked at Castiel.

"Dude, you have nothing to apologise for. At all. You saved my life! And you've been covering my classes. I can't even begin to thank you enough, especially since you hate my guts. You're awesome, and I'm the one that's sorry for being such a dick to you. Can we….can we start over?"

Castiel finally looked at him, and Dean was rendered speechless by the hue of his eyes.

_That blue…shit._

"Of course, Dean. I would like to start anew with you. As for 'saving you', I simply did what any decent human would do, don't thank me. I am glad that you are recovering, and I won't bother you again if you don't want me to."

Dean was the one forced to look away this time, as he mumbled, "Nah it's cool, you can come visit me still…if you want, like, that'd be awesome. I'd like it. If you want."

There was a silence, and then Castiel spoke softly.

"I would like that very much, Dean." They smiled at each other, and then a thought struck Dean.

"Wait, isn't your boyfriend pissed that you're always coming here?"

He noted the way Castiel stiffened at that, and hastily added, "I'm not trying to be a dick or anything, I'm actually genuinely curious."

"Balthazar and I….are no longer together." Castiel said stiffly. There was a strange leap in Dean's stomach, which he quelled.

"Can I ask why?"

"He found the affections of young females more enjoyable than my company. He has gone back to England, and our house has been sold." Castiel was now looking at where Dean's hands had stilled after fiddling with his blanket.

"Well, he sounds like a complete asshole. You're well shot of him."

"Yes. I was planning on suggesting we take a break before I found him mid-coitus, but he made his standing on our relationship perfectly clear. He will not be missed." Castiel said, and he smiled at Dean – the first genuine smile Dean had seen on his face. Dean smiled back, and then they just smiled at each other until Dean realised it had been a full minute and he looked away awkwardly.

"So, where are you living?" Castiel shifted at the question.

"When I am not here or at work, I'm staying at the motel down the road."

"You can't do that! This is gonna sound really weird, but do you want to stay at my place? I'll give you a key and you can set up there. It's kinda messy and probably dusty because no one's been there in two weeks, but it's free living and I kind of owe you a shitload."

"Dean, you don't have to-" Castiel protested, but Dean cut him off.

"If you don't, I'll set my Uncle Bobby on you. You can have the guest room. There's…..a bunch of stuff in there you’ll have to move though, sorry,” he said awkwardly, but Castiel was beaming.

“That is very kind of you, Dean. Thank you very much. If it’s all right with you, I’ll stay until I find another place to live.”

“If it wasn’t okay with me I wouldn’t suggest it. Don’t sweat it – we can carpool and shit to work when I’m outta here, your car is a piece of crap, dude.” Dean gave a crooked grin in return. 

“I’ll just…go start moving my stuff then?” Castiel stood, and the moment was gone.

“Yeah, sure! Bobby’ll have a key, I’ll call him from here and let him know you’re coming. You know where Singer’s Auto Shop is, right?” Dean said as he reached for the bedside phone.

“Yes, Dean, I know where it is,” Castiel replied in a tired voice. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

He left the room, and Dean dialled. The phone rang a few times until Bobby’s familiar gruff voice answered.

“Hello?”

“Hey Bobby, you know how I can be really awesomely spontaneous in the most endearing way possible?” Dean said brightly. Bobby wasn’t fooled.

“What’ve you done now?”

“Castiel Novak is on his way over. He needs a key to my house – he’s moving in.”

“Dean…..”

“I’ll talk later!” And Dean hung up, letting the full weight of what he’d just done hit him. 

_Castiel Novak is going to be living with me._

_Holy shit._

He looked back over at the cards next to him, and began to read them. 


	5. Welcome Home, Dean

Over the course of the next two weeks, Castiel continued to visit Dean every day. Some days he simply quietly sat there while Dean dozed or read, marking papers and handing Dean water or food. Other days they chatted, and Castiel told Dean about how he'd found Balthazar that day. Dean sympathised, and promised Castiel that if he saw Balthazar he wouldn't hesitate to punch him in the face. Castiel had given him a smile that had made Dean's entire freaking  _week_ , and the heart monitors had betrayed him, the beeping increasing in time with his heart. Castiel, bless his angelic butt, had ignored it, and then Dean had told him some stupid joke that for some reason had made Castiel throw his head back with laughter. Dean had watched in complete shock as the man laughed, a rough guttural sound that Dean longed to hear again and again, showing his even white teeth as his eyes crinkled at the edges.

"You find  _that_ funny?" he asked after finally finding his voice (albeit slightly higher pitched than normal). Castiel blushed.

"I'm sorry, my sense of humour can be….different to others. I'm told that I'm less socially adept than others, I apologise."

"No, no that's cool. Just means I finally have someone to tell all my crappy jokes to." Dean grinned crookedly. "And you're gonna be living with me, so you better get used to it."

"I think I can do that," Castiel smiled.

* * *

Finally,  _finally_ , Dean was released, at 5 in the afternoon on a Friday, exactly four weeks after the attack. He grumbled the whole time Castiel merrily wheeled him out of the hospital –"I don't need a freaking wheelchair, I'm fine! I can walk, dammit!" "It's hospital protocol, Dean" "I'm like 100% sure you're making this shit up Cas that's for women who just gave birth!" "Dean, I'm the one pushing the chair. You would do well to not argue with me"– and crammed himself into Castiel's Toyota, after he told Castiel exactly what he thought of the car.

"Cas, your car is a piece of shit."

"Thank you, Dean."

"No, I mean it. How can you even drive this car? How is it still running?"

Castiel started the engine, and Dean went white.

"No. Hell, no. Are you listening to this? That clunking noise? We're gonna die in this deathtrap, man, this car will kill us I just got out of hospital I am not going back in!"

"Dean, shut up."

Dean scowled and shut up. Castiel grinned to himself and drove them back to Dean's small house, revelling in Dean's winces at every clank and rumble the engine gave.

When they arrived, Dean couldn't get out fast enough, and hugged his duffle bag with the meagre possessions he'd had at the hospital to his chest.

"There is literally nothing on this planet that will ever convince me to get back into that car. You are never driving that car again. From now on, we're carpooling."

His arms, shaky from not doing any heavy lifting for a month, chose that point to give out, dropping the bag onto the ground.

"Dammit!"

Castiel picked up the bag and held out his other arm.

"Dean, you haven't stood up properly in a month. Let me help you."

Gritting his teeth, Dean took the proffered arm and leant on Castiel as they walked through the front door. He was entirely unprepared for the sight that greeted him.

A huge banner was hung in his –  _holy shit when did it get so clean_  – living room, saying "WELCOME HOME DEAN" in gaudy colours. The coffee table, miraculously clutter and stain free for the first time in…Dean had no idea how long, was polished and had an enormous apple pie on to, obviously freshly baked. The best part, though, was the fact that Bobby, Ellen and their daughter Jo (who was also in Dean's class and was like the annoying little sister he never wanted) were there, plus Pamela Barnes (part of the school admin and one of Dean's closest colleagues) and her boyfriend Jesse, Missouri Moseley from next door, her husband Rufus, and Charlie Bradbury, Jo's best friend and sister to the mullet haired guy stood next to her – Ash, the Computer Lab Teacher. Dean froze, leaning on Castiel's arm as he stared at his clean, tidy home, and the beaming friends that were suddenly crammed in his living room, along with a whole ton of cards and flowers.

"What?" was all he managed to say. Ellen smiled at him and gestured to the spotless couch.

"Sit down, boy, and close your mouth. You'll catch flies if you keep that up." This earned a titter from everyone, and Castiel guided Dean over to the couch, easing him into sitting down. Dean stared at the pie, then back up at everyone.

"What's going on?"

"Wanted to welcome you home after you almost died and spent a month in hospital, idjit," Bobby said, and Dean had to blink back tears because he was  _not_  going to cry at the thought of this many people actually giving a damn about him.

"You organised this?"

"Actually, it was Castiel's idea. We helped a bit, but he's the one who did the most legwork. We just sorta…showed up." Bobby's eyes twinkled, and Dean turned to look at Castiel, who was sat next to him, gauging his reaction.

"You son of a bitch," was all he heard, before Dean was grabbing him and hugging him, hard. Castiel hugged back, surprised at the turn of events, and had to stop himself from closing his eyes when Dean murmured in his ear, "you really didn't have to do this, you know."

"That's what friends do, isn't it?"  _Because you are the most beautiful man I've ever met, inside and out, and if I live here then I'm going to fall in love with you and I-_

Dean buried his face in Castiel's shoulder. "Thanks, man. Just…..thanks."

They only realised there were still other people in the room after a full minute, when Charlie awkwardly cleared her throat and Jo giggled. They let go hesitantly, and Dean refocused on the pie.

"Alright, who made the pie, and where's the fork?"

* * *

An hour later, everyone was making their way through pie (In addition to the one Missouri had made, Ellen had brought along two backups) and Dean was looking at all the cards, which were delivered courtesy of Castiel.

"And these are all from students?" he asked in amazement. Castiel nodded.

"Yes. They were dropped off daily, the ones I brought to you in hospital were only a brief selection. You are a very popular teacher, Dean, even with the students who do not take your class," he said quietly, content to observe Dean's reaction to the various convoluted sentiments in the cards.

"Huh." And Dean was struck speechless by the sheer amount of people who apparently cared about his well-being. "I never….I thought….this is weird, man."

"How so?"

"I didn't know I was this popular." And Castiel suddenly could see straight into Dean's self-depricating mindset, how useless and unworthy of attention he believed himself to be, and how he didn't   understand why these people care, and from the look Bobby shot over he knew exactly what Castiel was thinking about.

He just wished he knew why Dean felt that way about himself when he was so clearly wrong.

He also wished Dean would realise that he wanted more than friendship, more than housemates, and that the attraction he felt towards Balthazar was nothing, was completely infinitesimal to the scorching fire that Dean Winchester has somehow managed to set aflame in his heart, and that Dean would realise that he felt the same way towards Castiel.

But he decided he'd take what he could get, because for all he knew Dean was straight.

It was when he was talking to Ash that he realised that he would have to be a lot more subtle if he didn't want Dean to find out how he felt. Ash was confusing – he was an MIT graduate genius hidden underneath a mullet and a lazy smile.

"Buenos dias, hombre!"

Not to mention his odd habit of randomly speaking in Spanish.

"Hello, Ash."

"So, you and Winchester, huh? I mean, when Charlie told me you guys had a thing I didn't believe her, because you looked like you were gonna kill each other in the staffroom – I tell ya, Pam and me had a bet going to see who would kill the other first! – but whatever man, you guys look good together. Dean needs someone like you in his life, you know?"

"I don't….we aren't…..wait, what?" Castiel blinked in confusion, and Ash looked embarrassed.

"Oh! My bad….don't sweat it, amigo, have more pie!" and a cheap paper plate was shoved into his hands as Ash walked to where his younger sister stood with Jo, saying, "Dude! You were wrong!" Charlie retorted with something Castiel couldn't hear, and pretty soon the pair of them were arguing, gesticulating wildly as Jo laughed. Castiel looked over at where Dean was standing and chatting to Pamela and Jesse, and picked at the pie absently. As if he could feel his gaze, Dean looked over and smiled, but then frowned when he saw the demolished dessert on the plate. He walked over.

"Dude, it's pie. You eat it and bask in its glory, you don't demolish it! What's it ever done to you?"

"Oh! I…didn't even realise," Castiel said, and Dean laughed.

"Nah, you're good. I'll have you eating properly in no time. It's the least I can do, after all of this." Dean's voice took on a more serious note. "You've been so nice to me, and I was a complete dick. I am really sorry, you know? And I'm sorry all that shit with your ex happened, too. You're a great person and I…..I'm just really glad you're my friend. Yeah." And Dean rubbed the back of his neck self-consciously, making Castiel smile.

"Thank you, Dean. I'm sure you are wrong about me-"  _I'm taking advantage of your friendship so I can satisfy my own pointless crush_  "-but I'm glad you think so."

The two of them smiled at one another before simply leaning against the wall that divided the living room from the kitchen and observing their friends. After a few minutes, Dean had a thought.

"Dude, did you get all your stuff in okay? Like you said you did when you were visiting me, but….."

"Yes, Dean. I did."

"So you sorted out the spare room?"

"Well….." Castiel hesitated, and Dean frowned.

"What?"

"There was a fair amount of personal possessions in your 'spare room'. I didn't wish to intrude, so I have left my things in the empty cupboard in the hallway. I hope you don't mind."

"Oh, yeah. That room….it was Sammy's. Kinda haven't been there in a while, I guess. Sorry. You should've said something, Cas! Where the hell have you been sleeping, then?"

Castiel's eyes slid over to the couch, and that told Dean everything.

"Oh no. Hell no. First things first, we're getting these losers out my house, and then we're setting up your room properly. Got it?"

Castiel gave him a helpless look. "Dean, don't stop having fun on my account. We can do this tomorrow, once you're rested and-"

"Nuh uh. I won't be having fun if I know you're gonna be sleeping on my lumpy, shitty couch another night."

"Actually, I find it-"

Dean interrupted him, yelling, "All right, listen up! Those who wanna help clean my house, stay! Those who are normal enough to not want that, leave! I got shit to do."

He grinned at Castiel when everyone balked and began to hurriedly dump their plates into the kitchen bin.

"See? Nobody likes clean-up."

They were approached by Missouri, who hugged Dean, the scent of cinnamon and nutmeg washing over him, and Rufus, who clapped him on the shoulder.

"Good to see you up and about, son. And treat this boy right!" Missouri added, nodding at Castiel. Dean raised his eyebrows, and she smacked him across the head. "Don't sass me!"

"I didn't say anything!"

"You were thinking it!" She left, Rufus in tow, who shrugged at the pair of them before leaving. Dean turned to Castiel.

"I swear, that woman can mind read. She's terrifying!" Of course, Castiel snorted at this, and Dean nudged him with his elbow.

"You only like her because she didn't wallop you across the head!"

"She makes a delightful pie."

"Yeah, well….whatever."

Next, Pamela and Jesse headed out, hugging Dean and Castiel, who was in too much shock at the show of affection to respond.

"We'll see you Monday!" Dean raised a hand in farewell, and they left, Jesse's arms wrapped around Pamela's waist so that she was frog-marched away, laughing.

Ash and Charlie left with Bobby, Ellen and Jo, the five of them each hugging the two men half to death, even Bobby. Ash piggy-backed his younger sister out the door, with the pair of them hollering "Adios, bitches!" as they toppled out, and Ellen barked out a laugh before embracing Dean.

"Don't you ever do something that stupid again, you hear me?" She said, and Dean had the grace to look ashamed.

"Yes, Ma'am."

"I mean it!" and she hauled Jo out behind her, who waggled her eyebrows at them before following her mother.

"See ya Monday Dean!"

"That's Mr Winchester to you, squirt!"

Bobby rolled his eyes and looked at Dean pointedly.

"You listen to my wife, Dean. We all love and care about you, and Sam wouldn't want you to be this reckless. Life is shitty, but suck it up, boy!" and he hugged Dean, then Castiel, and left the two of them in the now silent house. Dean blinked at the sudden departure, and then looked at Castiel.

"So I guess we got some cleaning to do, huh?"

* * *

Another half hour later, the living room was devoid of the stupid paper plates, and the cards were neatly arranged on every available surface. All Dean could do was stare blankly at the spotless living room, completely free of the empty beer cans and junk that had become such a staple part of the aesthetic since Sam had died.

"Did you clean all this by yourself?" He asked Castiel, who looked awkward.

"Um. Maybe. I…..I had nothing to fill my time aside from work and….."  _visiting you in hospital._ The unspoken words hung between them, and Dean took pity, clapping him on the back.

"Place hasn't been this clean in over a year, man. Not since….." his voice trailed off, and his face darkened. Castiel looked at him concernedly, and Dean smiled once more, although it was more forced. "Anyway, you're awesome. Let's sort out your room, okay?"

They went upstairs with black bags and cardboard boxes, to the room with the door that Dean hadn't opened in months. He took a deep breath, glanced quickly at Castiel, and opened.

The room was exactly as Sam had left it, minus his lifeless body on the floor and the needles that had accompanied it. Post-grad law textbooks were on the desk, useless and unused. There were still pictures tacked to the wall, of a younger Sam, with his arm around Jess, and the bed was still unmade, with the top corner of a poorly hidden porn magazine peeking out from under the bed. Dean stood in the doorway, and Castiel saw his eyes glisten momentarily before he blinked and his expression returned to one of forced cheer.

"Okay, let's start!"

"Dean, we don't have to do this if you are not ready," Castiel said gently, putting a hand on Dean's elbow. He still wasn't exactly clear on what had happened to Sam – Dean would tell him when he was ready – but he knew the memory was painful and not something he wanted Dean to relive on his account. Dean shook his head.

"Nah, it's been a year. Should've been done already," he said, and strode into the room. "Right, you start clearing the desk, and I….I'll take the cupboard."

Castiel hesitated before carefully stacking the items on the desk – textbooks, piles of paper, stationery – into the cardboard box at his side, occasionally glancing over at Dean to see if he was okay. Dean didn't look back, his face stony as he grabbed armfuls of jeans and plaid shirts and shoved them into the black bag at his side.

* * *

It was 8:30, and the bed had been stripped and remade with new sheets, the desk entirely cleared, the closet bare, and the walls naked. The two of them had played music as they worked, Dean relaxing enough to sing along to Led Zeppelin, Castiel making Dean laugh when he underestimated the layer of dust on the shelf he was clearing, and ended up with his hair coated in the grey flecks, and a face completely in shock. Dean ignored the  _imagine growing old and seeing his hair grey like that for real_  thought that traitorously ran through his head, and instead focused on laughing. It had been worth the expression on Castiel's face –  _he_  had made Dean laugh,  _he_  had taken Dean's mind off the depression that was at the back of his mind – and Dean wanted to frame it.

Castiel turned from where he had written  **Textbooks for donating**  on a box, and saw Dean standing in the middle of the room, holding what appeared to be a filthy rag. On closer inspection, it was an old, dirty stuffed dog, that had obviously received an incredible amount of love over the years.

"He kept it," Dean whispered brokenly, staring at the toy, tears threatening to fall. "I can't believe he…..this was my first Christmas present to him, when he was a friggin' baby….and he kept it."

Castiel moved up behind him, and placed a hand on his shoulder. The brief touch was all it took, and Dean collapsed, turning to throw himself into Castiel's arms as he sobbed. Castiel held him tightly, and the only sound in the room was the sound of Dean Winchester crying his eyes out over the loss of his younger brother.


	6. Custard and Strawberries

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I feel like this chapter is crappier because I was rushing slightly because it's a day late (sorry sorry sorry). So I apologise for it's lack of quality

Castiel, of course, insisted on cooking that night.

“Cas, I’m a grown ass man, I can make my own freaking –“

“Dean, you have just spent a month in a hospital bed living on what barely passes as food. It’s practically my duty to ensure you have decent quality food.”

“…………fine.”

And that was how the two of them ended up sitting on the couch, eating spaghetti bolognaise and watching Star Wars, because Castiel had admitted to never having watched it before, much to Dean’s horror.

“How are you even _alive_ , man? They’re what forms the basic part of anyone’s childhood!”

“I had a sheltered upbringing, Dean.”

“Well, obviously!”

So they sat there, Dean barking at Castiel to “sit down and _watch, dammit_. You cooked, I’ll do the rest – I’ve been sat on my ass for frigging weeks and you are going to sit there and appreciate Star Wars!” when he went to put away their dishes at the end of Episode IV. After washing them quickly and leaving them to dry, he made his way back into the living room.

“So I guess-“ he broke off. Castiel was slumped on the arm of the couch, snoring softly. Dean hovered, briefly caught between waking him up in the most obnoxious manner possible and letting him sleep, before heading quickly upstairs.

Once he reached Sam – no, Cas’ – room, he paused for a second, memories of _Sammy_ running through his brain, and then he went into action. Dean quietly but hastily emptied Castiel’s bags of his belongings, putting away clothes, stacking books, making the bed, and arranging all his little ornaments – his framed Oxford degree, photos of his family, and suspiciously empty frames that Dean suspected had once held photographs of Castiel and Balthazar – haphazardly. Once he was satisified with how the room looked – “moved in” – he tiptoed back downstairs to where Castiel remained fast asleep. He smiled fondly, reaching out to gently brush a lock of hair from Castiel’s face as he went to turn off the TV and DVD player. He then padded back to Castiel, and timidly shook his shoulder.

“Hey, Cas? Wake up,” he whispered. Castiel grumbled, and rolled over in his sleep.

Dean tried again.

“Cas? Rise and shine.”

“ ‘mf no custard.”

Dean kept an absolutely straight face as he continued to try and wake up his housemate.

“Dude, you gotta go to bed.”

“love you,  Dean,” Castiel murmured. Dean froze.

“What?”

“Strawberry.”

Dean exhaled through his nose.

“There is no frigging way I am gonna carry you up those stairs when I have just gotten out of _hospital_ ,” he hissed, and shook Castiel’s shoulder far more firmly. “Cas, wake up.”

Castiel’s eyes opened slowly, and he yawned as he blinked blearily.

“Dean? Wha…?” Dean smirked.

“You fell asleep while I was in the kitchen, dude. Come on, let’s get you to bed.” His stomach flipped as his mind instantly filled with images of Castiel actually _in_ bed.

With Dean.

He shook himself, and offered an arm to Castiel.

“You aren’t sleeping on this piece of crap. Come on sleepyhead, let’s go.”

Castiel took his arm unquestioningly, and they ended up leaning on one another for support as they made their way upstairs – Dean from the pain in his torso and legs, Castiel from sheer exhaustion. Dean gave a small huff at the top of the stairs when he realised how bone-tired Castiel was.

“Dude if I knew you were this exhausted from sorting out all my shit as well as yours, I would’ve made you sleep sooner,” he said softly. Castiel gave the smallest of nods, and allowed Dean to half carry him into his new bedroom before flopping down fully clothed and succumbing once more to sleep. Dean, unable to resist, shifted Castiel so that he was now tucked up in bed, tufted brown hair sticking out the top of the duvet, and looking about ten years younger from losing all the lines he wore on his face when awake. Dean, thoroughly tired himself, stumbled to his bedroom after closing Castiel’s door with a soft ‘click’, and collapsed on the bed, too tired to change into his pajamas, and fell asleep straight away.

* * *

Castiel awoke, and was immediately confused. It was still dark; why was he awake? He lay still, and the noise that had woken him was suddenly there again: a muffled whimper, only audible due to the thin quality of the walls. He climbed out of bed, bemusedly registering the way he had been tucked in so carefully, and realised he was still clothed. He crept out of his bedroom, and into Dean’s room, where the noise originated from.

Dean Winchester lay spread eagled on his back, asleep, still in the clothes he had been wearing upon his release from hospital. The moonlight shone through his window, illuminating the scene as the sleeping man whimpered helplessly, fists clenching and unclenching with his face contorting in pain.

“No….Sammy….” he sobbed, and Castiel’s heart twisted. Dean continued to moan.

“Alastair….me….not Sammy,”

Without stopping to think, Castiel strode over so that he stood next to Dean, and lay a hand on his left shoulder. Dean stilled almost immediately, and a small smile appeared as he placed his own hand over Castiel’s.

“Mmmmm,” he hummed, and Castiel sighed in relief. Dean slept on, oblivious, and Castiel soothingly rubbed the shoulder he had hold of before reluctantly removing his hand. He wanted nothing more than to curl up next to Dean, and offer him bodily comfort, but this would have to suffice. He resignedly left the room, satisfied that Dean’s sleep would be uninterrupted, and went back to his own bedroom. Castiel sat on the edge of his bed, shucking off his clothes so that he was only in boxers, and then returned to the duvet cocoon Dean had perfectly arranged for him out of pure intuition. He drifted off to sleep once more with a smile on his face.

* * *

The morning, of course, showed Castiel what he hadn’t been able to discern with only moonlight to guide him. He gaped as he took in the sight of his bedroom. His bags – which had been unceremoniously dumped in the corner “to deal with after dinner” the day before – were now empty, and his possessions were stowed away – in an untidy but not careless manner.

“Oh, Dean,” he whispered to himself, before suddenly realising that Dean needed his morning pain medication. He hurried to Dean’s room, where the man in question was blinking the sleep out of his eyes as he woke up. He caught sight of Castiel, and raised his eyebrows before grinning.

“Morning, Cas. You always walk around like that, or is it just for me?”

Belatedly, Castiel realised that he was only in his boxers, and blushed. Dean watched with interest as the red flush began at the base of his neck and crept inexorably upwards, idly wondering what it would be like to follow that progress with his tongue.

This rather pleasant train of thought, however, was cut off by the distinctly unpleasant flash of pain from his ribs and leg. He shot upwards into a sitting position, and cursed.

“Son of a bitch!”

Castiel was already at his side, one hand rubbing small circles into his back as the other offered some small pills. Dean eyed them suspiciously, and Castiel huffed.

“It’s pain medication, Dean. Nurse Robinson made me promise that you take these on a regular basis until you are back to full health.”

Dean scowled and took the pills from Castiel, only then catching sight of the small brown pill bottle and glass of water that Castiel had – at some point – placed beside his bed the day before.

“Thanks,” he said grudgingly, and the corner of Castiel’s eyes crinkled as Dean swallowed his medication.

“You are welcome, Dean. And for the record, I only walk around like this when I want to be on display.” And with that enigmatic statement leaving all kinds of images in Dean’s head, he left to room to throw on a shirt before going to make breakfast.

* * *

Castiel was halfway through frying eggs and bacon when Dean entered the kitchen. He offered Dean a shy smile before asking, “I wasn’t sure what you wanted, but I started off some bacon for you just in case. Did you want an egg? How many?”

Dean blinked.

“Uhh, two? Please?”

Castiel nodded.

“Coming right up.”

And before Dean knew it, he had a plate of toast, eggs and bacon before him, perfectly cooked. He looked from his breakfast to the man now rummaging through…..well he supposed it was now ‘their’ fridge.

“Why?”

He hadn’t meant to sound as much of a Neanderthal as he did. Castiel glanced at him.

“Why what?”

“Why did you make me breakfast? Why are you being so nice?” Dean demanded, entirely confused. “I’ve been a dick to you since day 1 and you’re just…..a fucking saint, and no one’s ever…..I don’t…..” he gestured helplessly. Castiel’s head tilted to the left, and he studied Dean before answering.

“I was also rude from our first encounter, Dean. And I thought we had agreed to start over. So either way, it is not of import. As well as this, you are still recovering, and I want to make it as easy for you as possible, because no one deserves to go through what you did and then have to fend for themselves afterwards. Finally, I am guessing that the blank spaces in your little speech were for you telling me that no one’s ever properly looked after you, or something similar. If that is the case, then I intend to change that. You are my friend, Dean, and a remarkable man. I wish to help you, and return the debt that I owe you for taking me in. Please, let me,” he finished off quite fiercely, and Dean ducked his head down.

“I dunno how to answer that, I suck at words and shit like that. But……..thanks. And you don’t owe me anything, you hear me? Now, get your own damn breakfast, because I ain’t eating until you do.”

Castiel, deeply embarrassed by his outburst, set about quickly making a second helping of what he had made Dean, and soon enough the two of them were eating contentedly in silence. Castiel enjoyed the quiet, and in the back of his mind was comparing this easy atmosphere to the tense, stilted exchanges between he and Balthazar, just over a month ago.

 _Times really have changed,_ he thought to himself as he munched his bacon. Dean grabbed the plates once they were done – “dude, we had this conversation last night. Whoever doesn’t cook, cleans up after. Got it?” – and then looked at Castiel hesitantly.

“What is it, Dean?” Dean looked embarrassed.

“I, uhh…..I wanna shower, but…..” he gesticulated towards his bandaged knee and the chest that had a layer of thick gauze over the lacerations. “I need the plastic covering, and I don’t….I can’t…..help me,” he finished lamely. Castiel nodded, having zero faith in his ability to form a coherent sentence. They nervously headed to the upstairs bathroom, and Dean stripped off his shirt and pants so that he was only in his boxers. Castiel found the covering in the bathroom cupboard (he may have gotten extra and put it there before Dean came home, just in case).

“Dean, you’re going to have to sit down.” Dean lowered himself so that he was sat on the edge of the closed toilet seat, and stretched out his injured leg.

“Sorry,” he mumbled. The bathroom suddenly felt ten times smaller. Castiel shook his head.

“Dean, you have absolutely nothing to apologise for.” With the utmost care, he set about covering Dean’s bandaged knee. Dean’s breath caught in his throat. Castiel’s touch came in featherlight brushes, as if Dean was incredibly fragile, and yet he was very thorough. Dean’s knee was completely covered, and it wasn’t too tight or too loose. Dean gulped as Castiel moved up his body, and blue eyes darted up to green, checking to see if this was okay. Dean gave a small nod, and Castiel began to slowly, carefully, cover the gauze on Dean’s chest. Dean closed his eyes, unable to watch as Castiel gently but firmly applied the cover. However, that simply made the sensation of Castiel’s lean fingers drifting across his torso even more unbearable, so he opened his eyes. Castiel had finished, and was simply staring at Dean’s chest, biting his lip.

“ _Cas…_ ” Dean said hoarsely. He didn’t know why, he didn’t know what he wanted to happen. However, it seemed to jerk Castiel out of whatever thought was going through his mind, and he looked up at where Dean was gazing down at him. He licked his lips uncertainly.

“I’ll, um. I’ll leave you to it,” he said, hastily standing up and retreating out the door. His distracted air, though, lead him to accidentally whack his elbow on the doorframe.

“Ow!”

And then he was gone, muttering curses under his breath. Dean sat for a moment, staring after him, before standing up, turning on the shower, and stripping off carefully. Once finally in the shower, he let his head drop back, allowing the warm water to wash over him. He washed his hair with care, doing his best to not raise his arms too high and make the wounds on his chest even worse.

Eventually he was done, and he grabbed his clothes and headed back to his room across the hallway with a fresh towel wrapped firmly around his waist. Thankfully he didn’t run into Castiel – his thought process began and finished with the way Castiel had been staring at him in the bathroom. The mere memory of that awestruck, almost _hungry_ look in his eyes made Dean’s heart thud painfully against his ribs – and his chest was in enough pain as it was already.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Inferification (who commented last chapter) - YOU COMMENTED AND THAT ALONE MADE MY DAY but also I really appreciated what you said about the characterisation because that's what I was trying to achieve. And the thing about Sam and Dean because yes that's exactly it I could hug you right now


	7. First Week Back

Monday arrived, and with it whole new brand of annoying for Dean. He and Castiel had quickly settled into an easy routine over the weekend, getting used to living with one another and finding that really, they worked well together. Saturday night, the phone call had come, telling Dean that the date of Alastair and Azazel's trial had been fixed and that he and Castiel were being called as witnesses, now that Dean was out of hospital. Castiel had gone out in his car of doom and come back with liquorice and pie, the two of them watching Star Wars: The Empire Strikes Back, in silence.

Dean woke up that Monday with a headache, due to the fact that he had been up half the night worrying about the following day and the impending trial, and stumbled downstairs to find a fresh-faced Castiel already at the stove, making a plate of eggs and bacon each and handing Dean's to him with a smile. Dean was simultaneously tempted to either hug or punch the man in front of him for being up so early and being  _cheerful_  about it. He settled for digging into his food, making small noises of appreciation. Castiel raised his eyebrows, smiling slightly, before eating his own. Dean noted that he was already dressed, and checked the time.

"Shit!"

He tried to bolt upstairs after dumping his empty plate in the sink, but the aches in his ribs and legs slowed him down. He settled for a quick hobble, turning and jabbing a finger at Castiel.

"Don't you dare laugh."

Castiel's lips were pressed firmly together as Dean moved like an old man, and when Dean reached the top of the stairs he heard a loud peal of laughter.

"I heard that, Novak! Get up here and help a guy out, won't you?"

One awkward shower and a quick clothes selection later, the two of them stood by their respective cars, arms folded as they scowled at one another.

"Dean, it's best if you don't drive, not in your-"

"I swear to God, Cas, if you so much as  _think_  the words 'current condition', I will kick your ass from here to school, no car needed! I am heading to work, where I am paid to  _teach people how to fix cars all day_ " Dean said pointedly. Castiel pouted.

"Yes, but you are able to instruct without directly being involved there. Driving while on prescription is an idiotic idea, and it would be far more practical to simply take my car."

"I am never getting into that deathtrap ever again!"

A voice interrupted them.

"Dean, instead of being a bonehead, let the boy drive the Impala! That way you won't be even later to work, and I can get back to having a nice sleep in!" Missouri Mosely stood on her front porch, arms folded, glaring at the two of them. Dean and Castiel looked at each other, Dean looking afraid.

"But…."

Castiel pinched the bridge of his nose.

"Dean I am on the verge of sending you straight back to hospital with a concussion. Decide what you want to do, and do it."

"Fine! But if you hurt her one little bit, Cas, I am booby-trapping your bedroom floor with Lego pieces," Dean said, and he huffed as he tossed Castiel the keys and slid into the passenger seat. Castiel stared at the keys in his hand, nervous. Missouri gave him an encouraging smile.

"He's never let anybody even touch the keys of that car; I'd make the most of this." She headed back inside, Rufus handing her a steaming mug of tea as they closed their front door. Castiel took a deep breath before opening the driver's door and getting in.

* * *

The drive to school had been needlessly tense, if Castiel's experience had been anything to go by. Dean had been a nervous wreck in the passenger seat, barking out anything from "Watch the fucking road, dude!" to "If I end up dead I'm leaving everything in my will to you, except for the car, because if you crash her you don't deserve her," when Castiel did anything – even turn a corner.

Once at school, Dean had jumped out and examined her, ensuring that there were no scratches or smudges of any kind before giving Castiel an approving nod. Castiel rolled his eyes as he climbed out, waiting for Dean to finish and grab his things before locking the car.

"Do you need help getting anywhere?" he asked concernedly. Dean shook his head.

"Nah, should be good from here. Sorry about freaking out back there, I just….." he shrugged helplessly. "That car means more to me than most people, and if anything happened to her, I'd lose it."

Castiel smiled in comprehension, and Dean was momentarily mesmerised. They stared at one another wordlessly, Dean completely entranced by the bottomless, multi faceted blue, and he licked his lips unconsciously. Castiel hungrily followed the movement with his eyes, and the second bell rang, breaking the both of them out of their reveries.

"That is all right, Dean. In case I am very much mistaken, your class is waiting for you, and mine is too. I should probably go now, but I will see you at lunch," Castiel strode off to the main building, trench coat flapping behind him. Dean watched his figure disappear, wishing that damn trenchcoat wasn't in the way of Dean seeing his ass once more, before turning to see his entire morning class looking at him with the biggest shit eating grins he had ever seen.

"So, how was your weekend, sir?" One kid – Krissy Chambers – asked innocently.

"Fanfreakingtastic," he retorted. "How many of you slacked off while I wasn't here?"

There was a collective shrug, and Dean took a deep breath.

"Alright, how helpful were Mr Novak and Mr Singer?"

Another shrug.

"Okay, whatever. Just get on with what you've been doing, except I want you to actually  _work._  I'll be sitting over there, but I don't wanna have to do much. I'm trusting you guys to be sensible, capisce?"

A jumbled chorus of "yes, sir" and "okay" followed, and Dean slowly walked over to the old armchair he'd found on the side of the road and put in his workshop to collapse into it.

* * *

The rest of the day passed in pretty much the same manner. Dean went to the staff room at lunch, and then groaned when he realised he'd forgotten to make himself a decent lunch to bring. Resigning himself to crappy cafeteria food, he grabbed a cup of coffee from the dispenser before turning around and almost slamming into Castiel.

"Jesus, Cas! Get a bell or something!"

Castiel looked a tad shamefaced.

"I'm sorry, Dean. I thought you might want this," he held up a brown paper bag. "You didn't make your lunch so I took the liberty of making it for you."

Dean had no words. He smiled and took the lunch from Castiel, and the two of them went and sat at one of the tables before digging in.

"Cas, you're a frigging genius," Dean moaned around a mouthful of what had to be the best baloney sandwich  _ever_. "If you didn't already live with me, I'd be asking you to move in."

The tips of Castiel's ears turned pink with pleasure. "Thank you, Dean."

As the break passed, most of the faculty approached the pair of them, telling Dean just how great it was that he was back at work and recovering. Dean could only offer them a weak smile and a "thanks", while Castiel gave them an encouraging nod. The pair were entirely oblivious to the fond smiles sent their way by the rest of the staff as they ate.

* * *

"Are you alright, Dean?" Castiel asked once they were home. Dean shrugged, dumping his jacket by the door.

"Yeah, I'm fine. It's just….weird being back there, you know?"

Castiel resignedly picked Dean's jacket off the floor and hung it on the coat rack before removing his own and hanging it next to the worn leather.

"You'll settle back in soon enough. Everyone is delighted that you are back, and your students would not stop asking me how you were the entire time I was teaching them. I am certain that you will be back to normal in no time."

Dean shot him a grateful smile, which turned slightly guilty when he saw that Castiel had hung his jacket for him.

"Thanks, Cas. You want me to do dinner, seeing as you were awesome enough to cover lunch?"

Castiel thought for a second.

"Why don't we both do dinner?"

They made burgers that night, and when Dean fell into bed (after taking his medication like Castiel had yelled up the stairs after him to do so), he dreamt of taking Castiel out to a fancy restaurant and dancing with him under the stars before kissing him senseless.

The guilt he felt upon waking for dreaming about his new – and somehow closest – friend was tempered by the despair that he could never have it.

The rest of the week was much of the same, and then that Friday the lawyer showed up.

When Castiel opened the front door that afternoon, he was not expecting the young blonde woman in a pantsuit.

"Hi! You must be Mr Novak. My name is Jessica Moore, I spoke to Dean on the phone?" she offered a hand for Castiel to shake.

"Cas? Is that Jess?" Dean's voice rung out from the kitchen, and Castiel's heart sank. Of course this would be Dean's girlfriend – or potential girlfriend, he thought sadly as he watched the two embrace.

"How you holding up?" Ms Moore – Jessica – asked Dean, whose smile didn't reach his eyes.

"I'm doing okay. Well, better than I would be if I didn't have Cas," he replied. "Oh, yeah! Jess, this is Cas. Cas, this is Jess. She's our lawyer for the Alastair thing. She…..she knew Sammy."

"I  _dated_  Sam," Jess corrected, smiling sadly. "And you know he'd be pissed if he knew you were calling him Sammy."

"The little bitch was pissed at me for calling him that when he was alive, it doesn't make a difference," Dean retorted, and Castiel could see that despite his offhand demeanour, this was not something Dean wanted to be talking about.

"Come in, Jess," Castiel said. "Can I offer you a drink?"

She looked at him gratefully. "I can get myself some water, I've been driving most of the day. I know where the kitchen is."

"I'll get it," Dean rolled his eyes. "You guys go swap knitting patterns or something and I'll grab us something to eat."

He ambled back into the kitchen, and Castiel watched fondly as he slapped another steak on the grill pan. He caught Jess grinning at him, and cast his eyes downwards as they went into the living room.

"So, are you two….?" She gestured vaguely between them, and Castiel's eyes widened.

"No! No, we're just…..friends, helping each other out," he said lamely. Jess winked at him.

"Sure. Because you aren't totally giving each other moony-eyes when you think the other isn't looking," she said. Castiel was never more grateful for Dean's habit of singing – loudly – along to the radio while he cooked.

"I…uhh….so how do you two know each other?" he asked. Jess sighed.

"How much has he told you about Sam?"

"His brother? He told me he was an addict, and he died," Castiel said uncomfortably. Jess nodded.

"Yeah, well I can't tell you a lot of it, but there is stuff relevant to the trial that you should probably know, and also just because you guys are living together. I don't want him to be pissed at me for telling you, though."

"Telling him what?" Dean stood in the doorway. Jess closed her eyes briefly.

"Telling him about Sam. He should know, considering he's going to court with you because of it, plus the fact that he has to live with your sorry ass."

Dean's face tightened, and he said hollowly, "Yeah. Yeah we can talk. After dinner."

He stiffly moved back to the kitchen, and soon Metallica was blasting out of the radio at full volume. Jess rolled her eyes.

"He'll be fine."

* * *

After dinner, the three of them sat around the coffee table. Jess rested a hand on Dean's shoulder, and Castiel was irrationally jealous of the easy way they interacted.

"Why don't I start?" Jess asked gently, and Dean nodded. She began to talk.

"What Dean isn't going to tell you is how their parents died in a house fire when he was 14 and Sam was 10. There was an electric fault, and Sam was knocked unconscious by his bedroom door falling on him. Dean dragged him outside before going back in for his parents, but they'd been trapped by the flames. They didn't make it out, and Dean and Sam were raised by Bobby Singer, who you've met."

Castiel nodded, noting how Dean's grip on his beer bottle tightened when Jess was talking. The urge to hug Dean, to hold him close, was overwhelming, but he pushed it down, and Jess continued to narrate.

"Dean spent his teenage years working at Bobby's garage and earning enough money to send Sam off to Stanford, like Sam had always dreamed of. Dean graduated high school and continued to work at Bobby's. When Bobby retired from his job teaching autoshop at Lawrence High, he told them to hire Dean, which they did. He always put most of his paycheck into a fund for Sam."

"Jess, is this necessary?" Dean asked tightly. Jess nodded.

"Yeah, it is. Shut up and let me talk, will you?"

Dean grunted, which Jess took to be an affirmative.

"Sam got a scholarship, a full ride, to Stanford, and Dean continued to send him money every month even though Sam didn't really need it. I met Sam there. He was….he was real nice," her voice broke slightly. "We dated for a little while, but then he met Ruby. She got him into drugs, and eventually he was on heroin. I broke up with him. I couldn't be with him like that. He started sleeping with Ruby instead, and came back here for the holidays and didn't come back to Stanford. Alastair and Azazel found him and started selling to him. I don't know exactly what happened, but…he overdosed, and Dean found his body in his bedroom-"

"I had to break the door down." Dean said. His voice was emotionless. "I went to Alastair that day. I warned him to stop selling to Sammy, because otherwise I'd get him. And you know what he said? He told me that Sam owed him two grand for all the heroin he'd given him. I said I'd pay off the debt, and he said he'd rather drag Sam down even further. Then he started trying to beat the shit outta me, and I managed to get out. So I went home and had it out with Sammy, and Sam locked himself up in his room. Eventually, I realised he could be shooting up in there because I hadn't gotten to all of his stash yet, and he didn't answer when I knocked. So I broke the door down, and he was dead on the floor." He stood up abruptly and strode into the kitchen. Jess looked helplessly at Castiel.

"I….you talk to him."

"What do I say?"

"Anything. Just….he needs someone who can help." Jess flumped back on the couch, and Castiel hurried after Dean.

Dean was bracing himself against the sink, eyes closed.

"Dean?"

"There's one thing I haven't told anyone."

Castiel said nothing, merely walked up behind him and placed a hand on his shoulder.

"When the house was burning down, and I went to find my parents…..they were dying when I found them. There was this wall of fire, and I couldn't get into their room, and they were lying on the floor. My mom was dead, and Dad was pretty much there. He was lying there, holding her, and he looks at me. And my dad….he said, 'you get Sammy out okay?' and I nodded because my mouth wasn't working right, and he said 'good. You watch out for him for us.' And then he died too."

"Dean…." Castiel said, and Dean looked at him, tears brimming in his clear green eyes.

"I couldn't save them, Cas. I couldn't save Sammy, either, and I let everyone down, because that's what I'm good at."

Castiel opened his arms, and Dean fell into them, starting to sob into his shoulder. The two stood in the kitchen, the brunette holding the blonde as he cried over his dead brother once more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The next update might be late because I'll be visiting my sister, sorry.
> 
> Woo comments! 
> 
> Inferification - IF ONLY THEY WERE LIKE THAT IN THE SHOW. HINT. HINT. But yes, that is what I am aiming for. And in danger of repeating myself - THANK YOU because you said it exactly ahhhhh =3
> 
> castielslovesong - You made me very happy. I hope you realise this. Like, really happy. I don't know how else to do the thanking thing because yeah. But THANK YOU
> 
> iamnopsycho - I updated as soon as I could! Thank you so much I hope I wrote this one okay
> 
> Lena - I kind of got impatient with myself and the slow pace and I feel bad about it so I've sort of tried to slow it down ahhh thank you because I agree :)


	8. You Can Leave Your Hat On

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can't write court scenes for shit, just so y'all know. Yay for having this up on time! I'm at my sister's and I'm gonna be moving down here in July for uni eep.  
> Comment responses at the bottom.

The next couple of weeks were busy for Castiel, Dean and Jess. Any minute the two men weren't at work or grading papers, they were discussing the case with Jess. Dean was forced to go over everything that he remembered, as well as listen to Castiel recount what he had seen, and look at the photographs of himself that had been taken upon his arrival alongside doctor's reports. He became more pale and withdrawn, the only things able to make him smile (albeit wanly) his class and Castiel's poor grasp of pop culture. Dean's new mission – aided by Jess – was the educate Castiel as much as possible in the ways of what he determined was quality film and music. His ribs and knee were almost fully healed, and the bandages around his chest were removed, leaving behind raised scars that were significantly paler than the rest of his skin and crisscrossed over his toned torso.

Castiel walked past the bathroom the day after the bandages were removed to find Dean stood in there, staring at his reflection with disgust.

"Dean?"

Dean jumped, and his arms flew up to cover the evidence of the attack protectively.

"What is it Cas?" he asked gruffly. Castiel's mouth opened and closed a couple of times before he was able to reply.

"You have nothing to be ashamed of."

He walked away quickly so that Dean wouldn't be able to see his face and the undisguised, naked longing that was written all over it. Dean stood stock still in the bathroom, his arms finally returning to his sides as he turned to look at his reflection once more.

* * *

The day of the trial, three weeks after Dean was out of hospital and seven weeks after he was attacked, was sunny and clear. Dean scowled out of the window as he angrily fixed his tie and put on the suit he had worn for Sam's funeral. It was as if he aged a decade as he shrugged on the jacket, and he looked himself over wearily, noting the dull-looking skin and lifeless eyes before leaving the room.

Out of habit, he glanced into Castiel's room as he passed, and saw Castiel attempting to fix his own tie properly. He shook his head, smiling slightly, before entering the room.

"Cas, you might get away with a backwards tie at work, but you need it done properly if you're gonna be in court," he said, and unhesitatingly gently pried the tie out of Castiel's hands. He adjusted it, reaching around Castiel's neck to fix the length, and only realised how close they were as he knotted the material and looked up. Castiel's eyes were locked onto him, unblinking, and both men's breathing was shallow. Somewhere in the back of Dean's mind, a voice (that sounded a hell of a lot like pre-addict, smartass Sam) was pointing out the fact that Dean's tongue was poking out the side of his mouth in concentration, but he couldn't remember what a tongue was anymore because he was drowning in bottomless blue.

Castiel licked his lips, and –  _oh yeah that's what a tongue is_  – Dean copied the movement with his own. There was a loud thumping noise in his ears, which he belatedly realised was his heartbeat, as the two of them drew closer and closer infinitesimally until –

"Guys! Hurry up! If Dean's insisting on driving we gotta leave ASAP to find somewhere to park his damn monster of a car!" Jess' voice rang out from the bottom of the stairs.

They pulled away from each other hastily, and as Dean strode over to the door he yelled, "Her name is Baby and you will apologise to her as soon as you see her you damn heathen!"

He shot a small, apologetic smile over his shoulder at Castiel, who stood in the middle of the room, before ducking out the door. Castiel bit his lip, checked his reflection (seeing how perfectly done his tie was), and threw on his trenchcoat before following Dean.

* * *

The courthouse, thankfully, didn't have too many people outside. However, that didn't stop Dean, Castiel and Jess from being flooded with reporters the second they got out of the Impala. Dean put an arm protectively around the other two, and glared at everyone as they walked up the stone steps into the courthouse. Once inside, he dropped his arms, and Castiel instantly missed the warmth and security they had provided.

"Sorry," Dean said shamefacedly. Jess frowned.

"Don't you dare start with that, Dean Winchester. Forget about it and focus on what we're here to do, okay?"

Dean nodded, and Castiel suppressed a smile.

"Let's go."

The trial was long and torturous. Alistair and Azazel's attorney, a brunette woman named Meg Masters, blatantly flirted with Castiel and Dean as she was cross-examining them, and both of the men gave her clipped, curt answers as a result. However, it only lasted a few hours until the jury went out to deliberate, as Jess had presented a clear and concise collection of all the evidence and data to build a case against the two thugs that was fool proof. Dean sat next to her in a half daze, doing his best to ignore the graphic descriptions and images being shown to everyone. When Jess began to talk about their part in Sam's death, her voice broke slightly, and Dean gripped the edges of the table he was sat at so hard his knuckles turned white. He felt a hand on his shoulder, and turned to see Castiel sat behind him, an encouraging look on his face. He nodded once, and leaned back into the touch as he looked back at where Jess was still talking about how Alastair and Azazel needed to be put behind bars for as long as possible.

After only an hour, the jury returned to the courtroom, and Dean was only aware of one word as the representative – a kind looking woman named Hannah – spoke.

"Guilty."

Dean staggered and fell back into his seat as the rest of the room – aside from a scowling Meg, Alastair and Azazel, and a stunned Castiel and Jess – cheered. The two thugs were escorted out the room by uniformed officers, and Dean could only think about how the past day had been a complete blur. He felt a small hand slip into his, and looked up to see Jess smiling down at him.

"Let's get you home."

Dean allowed himself to be guided outside, flanked by Jess and Castiel. This time, it was Castiel who put his arms around the other two and helped a stunned Dean and beaming Jess to the car. One glance at Dean, and Castiel slid behind the wheel.

They were halfway home when Dean looked at his hands and realised they weren't on the wheel. He looked to his left, saw Castiel driving carefully, and barked, "If we die the day the assholes who killed my brother go to jail, I'll kill you."

Castiel grinned at him, and Dean found himself laughing. Jess joined in, and Dean felt his mood lift as they drove back home.

* * *

Castiel pulled up outside the house two weeks later in his Toyota after working late, the engine finally giving up. He sighed in defeat as smoke billowed from the bonnet, and grabbed his briefcase out the backseat, delivering a final kick to the rusted metal. Jessica had gone back to California, with plenty of hugs and promises to visit again as soon as she could. As she'd hugged each man goodbye, she'd whispered in his ear "I swear to God, if you don't make a move soon I will come back here and kick your ass." Castiel had blushed a deep red, and Dean had stuttered a couple of times before telling her to "fuck off already, I need to go make bacon!" What neither of them realised was that she'd said the exact same thing to the both of them.

There was a low bass throb emanating from underneath the front door as he approached it, and he cautiously pushed it open.

_You can leave your hat on….._

Peeking round the corner into the living room, Castiel saw a very familiar figure moving around with a broom. Dean shook in time with Joe Cocker's gravel voice, wiggling his hips as he sang along. Castiel grinned and leaned against the doorframe as he watched Dean sing into the broom handle before twirling around it. The grin turned into him heavily biting his lip as Dean bent over to turn up the radio, and the back of his pants slid down a little.

_Holy shit._

Pink lacy frills peeked over the top of Dean's waistline, taunting Castiel as they snugly fit over the contours of Dean's body. His teeth sunk deeper into his lower lip, and his breath came a little faster. Thankfully, before he had the chance to leap over the coffee table and fuck Dean into the carpet, Dean straightened up and the bottom of his t-shirt covered the top of his jeans once more. However, he did begin to gyrate more as Joe Cocker sang,  _You can leave your hat on…_

Finally, Dean turned around and saw Castiel in the doorway. He grinned and waved before leaning down the turn the radio off, just as Joe Cocker was telling the listener  _You give me reason to live…._

The panties made a brief reappearance, and Castiel's bottom lip was really taking the pain that afternoon. Dean stood up and turned back, still smiling, and  _oh dear god_  this wasn't fair, his eyes were shining and everything.

"Hey man, sorry I didn't come to get you from work after I finished early, I was…..uhh…..cleaning. Kind of. May have gotten distracted." Dean's grin looked somewhat embarrassed, but then he perked up again as he said, "But the kitchen's clean! Look, I made the oven sparkle and everything!"

He was like an excited child as he ran over, grabbed Castiel's hand ( _don't sweat don't sweat don't sweat don't kiss him DO NOT KISS HIM_ ), and pulled him into the kitchen to show him  _just how clean_  the oven was.

To be fair, the oven really was clean, and Castiel could see his reflection in the gleaming metal.

"Shit, Dean, you went to town on her." Dean's freckles stood out as he flushed pink, and he gave a small, shy smile.

"Yeah, well. After the trial I've been kinda drifting, you know? But then I was like, cleaning out Sammy's room really helped me clear my head. So I thought cleaning all round here would help me focus a little. On like. Life and stuff. I dunno it sounds kinda stupid out loud…." He gave a small shrug.

"No, it's good. That you have something. Do you want me to take care of dinner? You look kinda tired." Castiel was  _not_  noticing that Dean had little flecks of gold in his eyes, he was  _not_.

"Oh, shit." Dean frowned. "I hadn't even thought about dinner. I mean, I can do it, you just got back from work." He looked at Castiel apologetically. "I'm sorry, I didn't even think about it."

"It's fine, Dean. I'll take care of it. Steak okay with you?" Castiel asked as he left the kitchen to dump his things in his bedroom.

Dean could only nod silently in complete astonishment at how frigging  _nice_  Castiel could be after a full day of working and teaching. And he totally didn't stare at the way Castiel's slacks hugged his ass as he walked away, so that Dean could see quite literally  _every single_ shift of his toned muscles beneath the fabric. When Castiel had disappeared up the stairs, he sank onto the couch, head in his hands.

"Goddammit."

* * *

_Dean ran along the beach, laughing as Sam chased him._

" _Deeeean! You're too fast!"_

_Dean finally stopped, allowing Sam's smaller frame to slam into him and knock the boys over into the sand as they laughed. Sam beamed at his 9 year old older brother._

" _Dean, when we go home, can we play with the Lego?"_

" _Sure, Sammy. But this time we're building a garage, okay?"_

_Sam pouted. "But I wanna make a caaaastle!"_

" _We did that last time!"_

_Dean's 5 year old brother grumbled. "Okaaay."_

" _Woo! Let's go find Mom and Dad."_

_As they stood up and walked over to Mary and John, Sam reached out and grabbed Dean's hand. Dean curled his fingers around Sam's stubbier ones, and felt a rush of a fiercely protective instinct towards him as they walked._

_Time slid and twisted, and Dean found himself aged 14, sprinting out of his burning home with Sammy slung over one shoulder. He lay his brother down in the grass._

" _I'll be right back, okay?" Dean turned and ran straight back into the flaming building, ignoring the screams of old Mrs Pratchett who lived next door. Instead of his parents being in their room, though, they were stood in Sam's bedroom. Nothing was burning anymore, and Alastair was standing beside them unnoticed, a knife in his hand. Dean tried to speak, tried to warn them, but no words would come out no matter how hard he tried._

" _Why did you let me die, Dean?" A 5 year old Sam was pulling on his hand, crying as Azazel stuck a needle into his arm. "Why did you let this happen?"_

" _You promised you would look after him for me, Dean," John said. "And look what you did. You let him die, just like you let us die. Can't you do_ _ **anything**_ _right?"_

_Mary joined in. "You had one job, Dean. And you failed."_

_As she spoke, Alastair ran his knife through her. Mary Winchester fell to the ground, lifeless, and Dean couldn't do a thing as he remained rooted to the spot. Alastair smiled at Dean, before stabbing John, who followed his wife._

" _You know you could have saved your dad, Dean. Just like you could have saved your brother. But you didn't did you? You just let it happen." Alastair moved towards Dean, who could suddenly speak._

" _Don't hurt Sammy. Please, leave him alone. Hurt me instead, he's just a kid." Dean was crying now, and all Alastair and Azazel did was laugh._

" _That's just gonna make this so much better." Alastair nodded at Azazel, who snapped Sam's neck with a single twist. Sam joined his parents on the floor as Dean screamed, and Alastair began to slide his knife down Dean's chest, lines of blood trickling down in the trails he left._

" _You're useless, Dean. Useless and worthless. Look at them. You're worthless, and not really that smart either. So yeah I'm going to hurt you, because really? That's what you deserve. Oh, and one more thing." Alastairs smirk became a full blown grin as he moved back towards the cupboard._

"Dean, wake up!"

_He opened the door, and a body swung out._

"Dean!"

_He nudged it with a foot, and lifeless blue eyes stared accusingly at Dean._

" _You could have saved him, too, you know."_

_Dean screamed, sobbing as Azazel flicked a lit cigarette onto the carpet, letting the floor catch alight._

" _Cas!"_

_The flames licked at Dean, and he felt himself shaking._

"Dean!"

Dean bolted upright, and found himself face to face with Castiel.

"Dean, are you okay?"

Dean couldn't breathe properly. Air came in heavy gasps.

"Dean, calm down. I need you to relax, okay?"

A shuddering breath, and then Dean was clinging to Castiel's shoulders.

"You're alive," he gasped out. "You're…I…" he realised he was crying. Castiel, more concerned than confused, hugged Dean.

"I'm alive, and so are you. You're safe, Dean, it's okay." Castiel spoke soothingly, and ran his hands up and down Dean's spine. Dean eventually calmed down, and simply sat there with his head buried in Castiel's chest as Castiel half-knelt on Dean's bed, arms wrapped around him comfortingly.

"I'll…..I'll go back to bed now," Castiel said as he awkwardly extracted himself. Dean grabbed his hand, looking surprised at himself.

"Um. Can you…..can you just stay? Please?" He looked up uncertainly, shy and scared of rejection. Castiel was staring at where Dean's hand grasped his, and Dean let go reluctantly. "Sorry, it's stupid. I'll leave you alone, sorry."

"Dean, shut up and move over." Castiel half shoved him as he climbed in next to Dean. Dean blinked in shock as he allowed himself to be shifted. The two of them lay there in silence, staring up at the ceiling. Castiel finally broke the silence.

"If you don't mind my asking…..what were you dreaming about? You were….screaming. And saying names. It didn't sound pleasant."

"It wasn't."

Castiel turned his head to look at Dean, who hadn't moved his gaze from the ceiling. When Castiel said nothing, Dean continued.

"I dreamt about Sammy. And Mom. And Dad. Only Alastair and Azazel were killing them in front of me, and I couldn't stop it. And then just before you woke me up, they…." His voice broke, and Castiel shifted closer instinctively.

"They what, Dean?"

Dean's voice faltered before he reasserted control over it. "They showed me your corpse, and they burned the house down as they told me it was all my fault."

His jawline worked up and down, and Castiel saw that he was close to tears once more. Turning over the part about  _him_  in his mind, he reached out and placed a hand over Dean's.

"I'm alive, Dean. You are alive. We are safe, they're gone. Nothing bad is going to happen, okay?"

Dean nodded to himself, swallowing a few times.

"Yeah. Sorry. Night, Cas."

"Goodnight, Dean."

They fell asleep quickly, reassured by the others' presence.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> iamnopsycho - Ahhhh thank you thank you! I feel like with canon Domestic!Destiel Dean would be like I CAN DO THINGS and like half fuck it up and end up scowling at the oven as it crapped out and Castiel would be like HOW DO I GRATE CHEESE but I love that and I love writing them just managing to do shit in AU because it's all schmoopy. I'm sorry for nearly making you cry :s but thank you! And my sister is awesome, we've been drinking and marathonning so much stuff the entire time.
> 
> castielslovesong - You make me smile omg uwu 
> 
> Inferification - I'm so sorry for the sad. Jess is awesome why couldn't she have lived and then her and Dean could tease Sam for nine seasons of awesome instead. (PSST IF YOU WANNA READ FLUFF I TOTALLY WROTE FLUFF JUST SAYING)
> 
> Pyro42x - Thank you! I'm feeling so guilty for all the shit that's happened to Dean in this. Oops. Hope this pleases you!
> 
> FallenBadass - I'm not blushing at an internet comment. At all. (I totally am). Thank you so much :D I'm so happy you like my story, I hope you like this update!
> 
> PS: The song Dean is dancing to is "You Can Leave Your Hat On" by Joe Cocker. Go listen to it! I love it.


	9. Breakfasts and Car Rides

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have no idea if this chapter is going to be well-received or not, but I'm in an incredibly uncaring mood right now so I'm not sure I actually care. Let me know what you think though! I actually DO care about comments and kudos and stuff. Hint.

A sharp, repetitive buzz brought Dean out of a rather pleasant dream involving him, ice cream, and more pie than was humanly possible. He grunted and snuggled down further, unwilling to face the reality of the day by ignoring it in favour of his deliciously warm pillow. There was a musky, reassuring scent in the bed, one that Dean could cheerfully burrow into and never leave if he could. Almost subconsciously, he breathed in more, allowing the scent to fill his nostrils and lull him back into a state of blissful sleep. He stilled when there was a low grumble, and the surface beneath his fingers vibrated slightly.

Not surface.

Not even a frickin' pillow.

_Skin._

_**Cas.** _

Dean hesitantly cracked one eye open. Yep. He was snuggled up into Castiel's side like a friggin' octopus, and Castiel's arms were loosely cradling him as the History teacher mumbled to himself in his sleep, oblivious to Dean freaking out.

His arm was still curled around Castiel though.

And the alarm would  _Not. Stop. Beeping._

"Fuck!" Dean hissed, and finally rolled over so that he could thump the damn thing until it shut up. Unfortunately, in his enthusiasm he rolled a bit too far, and ended up falling off the side of the bed, bringing the sheets, duvet, and one startled brunet down with him.

Or, in Castiel's case, on top of him. Dean blinked into the wide awake blue eyes that were inches from his own.

_Is that….no…oh my god._

"Morning, Cas. That a whiteboard marker in your pocket or are you just happy to see me?" Dean said, before his brain caught up with his mouth. Castiel blushed, then answered with a pointed glance down.

"I could say the same to you."

With rising horror, Dean realised he was in exactly the same predicament as Castiel, and he gulped.

"So, um. I'm gonna go and die in the bathroom now. You…..you carry on," he blathered, scrambling up and letting Castiel tumble off him onto the floor ( _sorrysorrysorrysorry_ ) with a look of vague surprise and pain, before running out of the room with the bedsheet still wrapped around his waist. As he reached the door, the sheet caught on Castiel's foot, falling from Dean's waist and causing him to trip over it.

"Ow! I'm okay, it's cool, I'm fine…. _fuckfuckfuckfuckfuck_ ," he muttered to himself as he hobbled down the hall, slamming the bathroom door shut behind him and leaning against it as he panted heavily.

* * *

Castiel lay on the floor of Dean's bedroom, staring up at the ceiling.

_That was…interesting._

He attempted to calm down his erection, which had been stubbornly standing to attention since before he'd woken up.

_Dean Winchester you son of a bitch._

He hadn't had morning wood like this in  _months,_  and now Dean Winchester, with his open heart and his humour and his passion and his devotion to his job and caring for others and his stupidly huge green eyes and muscular limbs and  _absolute perfection in every way possible…._

It was only when Castiel stopped to think about the fact that Dean's physical aesthetic ranked so much lower on his list that he realised just how much trouble he was in.

His panic increased when he saw the time on Dean's alarm clock, which was blinking feebly beside his head.

7:30

_Fuck._

Castiel sprinted to his own bedroom to get ready for work.

* * *

_I won't do it._

_You can't make me._

_Not gonna get off thinking about Cas._

_Nope._

… _._

… _._

…

_You win this round._

Barely five minutes later, Dean was slumped against the shower wall, panting once more and staring muzzily at the hot water washing away the evidence of his latest jerk-off session, which had ended with Dean coming harder than he had thought physically possible at the thought of Castiel teasing him open gently, before fucking into him slowly, tenderly, as he gradually picked up the pace and pounded into Dean so hard Dean was on the verge of blacking out.

And that was only in his  _imagination._

_Imagine what it would actually be like._

_I DON'T HAVE TIME FOR THIS,_ he snapped at his dick, which was starting to perk up at the thought.

_Jesus, I haven't been this horny since I was a friggin' teenager._

He finished his shower hurriedly, making sure he spent the last couple of minutes under an ice cold jet of water as opposed to the much desired steamy warmth of five minutes ago, and once he was back in his room he threw on the jeans he had been wearing yesterday, and carefully stashed the lacy panties he'd been wearing underneath them ( _please God do not ever let Cas find out about these_ ) into an inconspicuous laundry bag before putting on his favourite Led Zeppelin shirt.

And no, he did not almost fall down the stairs while struggling to put on a pair of shoes, following the scent of bacon as Castiel hummed merrily to himself in the kitchen. Because Dean Winchester was as sure-footed as a goddamn goat, and the thought of the hottest guy on the planet making him breakfast in his kitchen after waking up half naked with him was definitely not enough to make him stumble.

At all.

At least, that's what he told himself as he tripped oh so gracefully over his own foot into the kitchen. Castiel, who had just turned round to place a plate on the table, snorted.

"Hello, Dean."

Dean sat down, ignoring his blush.

"Hey, Cas. So, are we ignoring the awkward moment earlier?"

Castiel mentally cringed at the memory.

"Definitely. That plate is for you, by the way."

"Awesome. Look, man, you don't have to keep making me breakfast and stuff. If you think you owe it to me or whatever…..stop thinking like that, kay? And you know what? I'm gonna surprise you one day by getting up before you and making YOU breakfast." Dean shoved a forkful of bacon in his mouth for emphasis as Castiel rolled his eyes and began to eat opposite him.

"Dean, I make you breakfast because I know for a fact that you always forget it, and then by morning break you're ripping the heads off students and buying a McDonalds Apple Pie – and I seriously doubt those….abominations have anything remotely close to the fruit family in the near region of an airplane ride away from their ingredients, but nevertheless – at the first chance you get, which is a terrible habit to have fallen into. I do not wish to see you visit an early grave, and so I make you breakfast in order to circumvent the McDonalds visits and thus prolong your life." Castiel did not meet his eyes, and continued to eat before grabbing his and a shell-shocked Dean's empty plates, depositing them in the sink, and saying, "I'm just about ready for work – if you wouldn't mind, I would like to carpool for a while, as my car has finally 'crapped out', as you would say."

And with a whirl of his coat, he was out the door. Dean stared after him

"Nngh."

* * *

By 8:00 the two of them had piled into the Impala and were taking turns at impossible speed in their rush to get to school. Dean – for the second time – slapped Castiel's hand away from the radio, which was currently blasting Led Zeppelins' 'Immigrant Song' louder than he thought the laws of physics would allow.

"I don't understand why you don't simply set your alarm for an earlier time," Castiel said through gritted teeth as he clung on for dear life. Dean's grin was manic.

"That'd kill the magic! And we'll be there on time, I promise – GET THE FUCK OUT THE WAY YOU SISSY ASSED FUCKER! –  _and_  you'll have an extra couple of minutes to prepare for class! – AND THE TIN CAN YOU DROVE IN ON! – and I bet you ten bucks I get an amazing carpark," he said, weaving deftly between a reversing van and a cyclist, who both honked and flipped the bird as the Impala tore past.

When 8:02 arrived, Dean had skidded sideways into the best parking spot on school grounds – besides the ones marked for office admin - and Castiel had staggered out, hair askew and face white as he shakily clutched his briefcase. Dean climbed out, beaming proudly. The music still leaked from the car, and Dean absently nodded along as he shot a grin at Castiel.

"See? Told ya."

Castiel turned to him.

"The first thing I'm doing when we get home is resetting your alarm."

He walked – a tad unsteadily – towards the school building, and Dean rolled his eyes and leaned into the car to turn off the radio before locking up the car and heading to the workshop.

* * *

"So, are you and Mr Novak, like, together?"

Dean dropped the wrench he was holding. Charlie Bradbury grinned from where she stood over him as he demonstrated to her exactly how to check for a fuel leak.

"What?"

"You know, doing the do, having a horizontal tango, bottoms up, slinky dinky, slip n slide in the bed?"

"I-" Dean stared at the underside of the crappy Nissan he had half the class working on (the other half were on theory until he brought in Castiel's car for them to fix as a surprise for him) as Charlie babbled on.

"Because you guys would totally be awesome together. And it'd be awesome, because he's completely in love with you and everything, and you guys would make really cute babies if one of you could, you know, get pregnant, and me and Ash could be the godparents, and it'd be so cool! Plus the fact that you're getting us to fix his car for him is so adorable dude."

"What in the everloving fuck are you – okay, first off, NO. Secondly, it's inappropriate for me to be talking about my personal life, and the personal life of another staff member, to a student, even if it was your brother who changed the background of every computer in the district to a shot of me shirtless – thank him for me for that by the way, I got laid so much that month and – Joanna Harvelle I swear on your mom's pie that if you don't help me out here I am flunking your sorry ass!"

Jo, who had been laughing nearby, scowled.

"Charlie, leave the poor man alone. We know it's gonna happen, just let them fuck it out soon enough."

Dean shot out from under the car.

"Watch your fucking mouth young lady!"

The entire class, who had been watching this with increasing amusement as their teacher became more and more flustered, burst out laughing.

Dean had never been more grateful to hear the school bell ring at the end of the period.

* * *

Castiel's phone was ringing, and it wasn't a number he recognised. He answered it cautiously.

"Hello?"

"Baby bro!" An excited voice almost blew his eardrum out, and there was the faint sound of someone sucking on a lollipop. There was only one person who it could be, and Castiel found himself torn between smiling and allowing a pit of dread to fill his stomach.

"Gabriel."

"Is that all you got for me? Heard you and Balthadouche broke up, and honestly? You're well shot of him! But he's back in England now, where the hell are you?!"

Castiel debated with himself whether or not to tell Gabriel where he was. Of all his siblings, Gabriel was the only one he had kept a semblance of contact with – as in, Gabriel refused to stop emailing him the occasional picture of himself in multiple exotic locations, all involving him eating a candy associated with that place, and all with a different attractive female, male, or someone in between.

"I'm still in Kansas."

"Dude! I'm in New York! That's so close! I should visit you! I haven't seen you in the flesh since….." Gabriel's voice trailed off uncertainly, and Castiel filled in the blanks.

"Since you walked out and left me to be the one to suffer at the hands of our family for being gay. And New York is nowhere near Kansas. Did you not pay attention in Geography?"

Gabriel sighed, and the noise echoed down the phone line. At that point, Dean walked into the lounge, whistling. Castiel flapped a hand for him to be quiet, and without missing a beat Dean spun on his heel and walked back into the kitchen, still whistling what sounded suspiciously like 'Can You Feel The Love Tonight' (Charlie may have hacked into the workshops sound system and began to blast it until Dean found out how she'd done it and given her and Jo – the accomplice – detention for a week. And it may or may not have been stuck in his head since then). Castiel focused on what Gabriel was saying.

"I am sorry about that Castiel. Really. But I was getting so much shit from them, and Mikey and Luci wouldn't stop fighting, and I…"

Castiel smiled. "It's okay, Gabriel. I understand."

Gabriel's tone perked up instantly.

"Good! Because I've tracked the call to your cell, and I'm totally coming over! Who is this Dean Winchester, why are you at his address, and why did you not tell me you'd hooked up with this delicious hunk of a man?"

" _Gabriel_ "

"Okay, I won't hit on him. But yeah, expect me in three days, and I want to hear  _everything_."

Gabriel hung up, and Castiel stared at the treacherous phone in his hands.

"Fuck."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> castielslovesong - I hope this produces happier emoticons O.o
> 
> iamnopsycho - I MAY HAVE WRITTEN IT. It's called 'Bubbles' and it's over on my profile just saying. Ahh in that case I'm glad you nearly cried! You know, in a good way. I'm a nice person, I swear.  
> Yeah it was a crazy week with my sister and the day after I arrived home my parents told me that they're renting out my old granny flat/bedroom that can be isolated from the rest of the house so me and all my stuff are in my old shitty bedroom =.= But being with my sister was awesome! :D
> 
> Inferification - Dean needs a kick in the face for the amount of self-loathing he has. Argh. Also, there's more meddling to come! Thanksyou :3


	10. Pie, with a side of Gucci

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a day late because my family is kind of fucked up. Sorry. Anyway, here you go.

Castiel walked to the kitchen door, and peered in. Dean was leaning against the counter, cheerfully munching away on a bowl of dry Lucky Charms.

“Um, Dean?”

Dean looked up and grinned.

“Sup.”

Castiel momentarily shoved his brother’s impending visit aside. “Why are you eating Lucky Charms at 6 in the evening? Without milk?”

Dean rolled his eyes and pointed the bowl at Castiel.

“Okay first off, Lucky Charms are fucking amazing. Second, milk is fucking disgusting and I will not pollute my food with it. Thirdly, it is always a good time to eat Lucky Charms, and why do you look like you’re about to shit yourself?”

The History Teacher shifted before shuffling into the kitchen.

“So you know how I was on the phone?”

Dean’s eyes narrowed.

“Yeeeees…….?”

“I, ummm…..” Castiel looked at his feet. How could he ask this of Dean?

“Dude, seriously. Spit it out. Did you forget to wash a plate or something? You know I don’t care about that.”

He cleared his throat. “It was my brother. He has spontaneously decided to visit me. Here. In this house.”

Dean froze, spoon mid-air.

“What?”

“My. Um. Gabriel. Brother. He invited himself here.”

“…………….why?”

“I’m not entirely sure.”

There was an awkward pause as Dean chewed another spoonful.

“I see. So when does he get here?”

Castiel looked at him with surprise written all over his face.

“Wait, what?”

Dean raised his eyebrows and got up to dump his bowl in the sink. “Well, I’m not gonna _not_ let your brother stay, am I? So. When does he get here?”

Castiel let Dean’s complete and utter genuine generosity sink in before he replied, and he sighed inwardly.

“He said three days, so basically at any point from this moment on.”

The AutoShop teacher nodded to himself.

“Awesome. I’ll sleep on the couch, you can have my room, and he can have yours. I’m….um….I’m gonna have a quick shower and then make dinner.” Dean breezed out of the room, Castiel staring at him.

“Wait, Dean, you don’t have to-“ he babbled, but Dean was already up the stairs. Castiel sighed, rolled up his sleeves, and got to work.

* * *

When Dean reached the bottom of the stairs, the smell of pastry and pork his his nostrils. He inhaled deeply, and entered the kitchen to find Castiel washing the last of the dishes.

“Cas, what the fuck? I said I would do dinner!”

Castiel sighed without turning around, and spoke to the foggy window.

“I know, Dean, but you’re already tired from today, plus you have just agreed to allow my obnoxious older brother to stay in your home for an undetermined amount of time. You have also – without me actually asking for this, which I would never do – stated that you will forgo a proper bed for the duration of his stay, which I assure you is not necessary as I can take the couch. Please let the fact that I have made dinner tonight _go_ , and simply enjoy someone doing something for you.”

Dean’s mouth opened and closed several times.

“Dean, this is generally the part where you give a response.”

“I’m working on it.”

Dean stared at Castiel’s back as the man washed the dishes, up to his elbows in soapy water and moving sinuously beneath his pale blue shirt and black slacks. He bit his lip, and all he wanted to do was walk up behind the other teacher and settle his hands on his hips, leaning in to breathe in the scent of Castiel and rub small circles into the skin he found there and never let go.

But he couldn’t, so he didn’t. Instead, he simply said, “Whatever, what’d you decide to do for dinner?”

Castiel turned round and looked slightly nervous. “Pork pie.”

A moment of silence while Dean tried to process this.

“Meat? In? Pie? What?”

Castiel gave him a Look. “Dean, you are aware of the fact that pie can have fillings that aren’t fruit? It is in fact a common practice in England, and many other countries. America seems to be the one place that hasn’t caught onto the idea, much to my distress.”

Dean finally found coherency. “But pie is meant to be sweet and fruity! What the hell?!”

When Castiel rolled his eyes, Dean knew he’d struck a nerve. “Just try the damn thing before you pass judgement.”

“Fine. But only for you.” Dean blanched slightly at how that sounded, and left the room before he could say anything that sounded even more incriminating.

* * *

An hour later, Dean was beginning to question everything he knew about life so far.

“But _how_ does the pork stay tender?!” he exclaimed in reverence. Castiel grinned at him from the other armchair.

“Magic.”

“The rational part of me knows you’re taking the piss, but my tongue doesn’t care. This is one of the best pies ever, man. As in, right up there with apple.”

A genuine beam slid its way onto Castiel’s face, as if it knew it would be booted off again as soon as Castiel figured out what was happening. “Thank you, Dean. I’m glad you like it.”

They ate the rest of their meal in silence, as Dean had insisted on educating Castiel in the ways of Indiana Jones, and they were only halfway through the second film. Once they were done, Dean gave Castiel his best death glare, saying “don’t you even think about doing the dishes, I’m calling it here and now,” and taking his plate from his unresisting fingers. Their fingertips brushed, and Dean absurdly felt his breath catch at the brief contact.

 _Seriously, Dean? How old are you?_ He thought moodily to himself, and proceeded to make as much noise as possible while he rinsed the plates off in the sink, angry at himself.

* * *

The days passed much too quickly, and soon enough Castiel was staring at the front door with apprehension after three loud and abrasive knocks, accompanied by a yell of “CASSIE! LET ME IN!”

“Cas, either open the door or move outta my way you big baby,” Dean shoved past Castiel’s frozen form and opened the door, revealing a short man with blonde hair, golden eyes and a permanent smirk.

“Well, helloooo sailor! You must be Dean-o!” He thrust his bags at Dean and marched inside, pulling an unwilling and terrified looking Castiel into a hug. His arms pinned Castiel’s to his sides, and Castiel shot an exasperated look over the shorter man’s shoulder at Dean, who was now clutching a Gucci suitcase and looking completely blindsided.

“Casanova, you adorable bumpkin,” Gabriel pulled back and gripped Castiel’s chin between his thumb and two forefingers. “Look at his smooshy face, Dean! Isn’t my baby bro adorable!”

Dean burst out laughing as Castiel pulled back, hissing “ _Gabriel, no._ ”

Gabriel rolled his eyes. “Whatever, where can I dump my crap?”

Castiel and Dean glanced at one another before they both spoke at once.

“You have my room, I’ll take the couch-“

“Cas we talked about this, _I’m_  on the couch and you’re in my room!”

There was a smirk on Gabriel’s lips as he watched them. “You guys are adorable. I’ll find my own way upstairs!” He charged between the pair who were still arguing, and ran upstairs with a suitcase in hand. Dean and Castiel stopped bickering once he’d blown past them like a small hurricane, and Dean looked at his housemate.

“Did that just happen?”

Castiel exhaled through his nose. He could already feel the beginnings of a headache, and Gabriel hadn’t even been there five minutes. “Unfortunately.”

“Well, at least I know what to expect,” Dean hoisted the suitcase Gabriel had thrust at him a little higher so that he could cart it upstairs. “Let’s go, before he breaks something.”

The brunet followed Dean wordlessly, and strove to ignore the way Dean’s backside – painfully eye-level – was nicely hugged by the ratty jeans he wore. He failed completely, and scowled at Gabriel’s knowing grin when they reached the door of his bedroom.

“How long are you going to be here, Gabriel?” he asked. His older brother shrugged.

“I dunno, as long as you’ll have me?” he batted his eyelashes at an impassive Dean.

“Dude, stay as long as you want. If you fuck with my stuff or upset Cas, though, I’m kicking you out. Got it?”

Gabriel waggled his eyebrows. “Sure thing! And I’m here to make him like me again, not upset him.” He grabbed his bag from Dean and put it by Castiel’s bed.

“I am right here, you know,” Castiel pointed out after blushing slightly at Dean’s words. Dean spared him a glance once he’d given Gabriel his best threatening look.

“Yeah, I know…just……I’m gonna go set up the couch,” he mumbled, and headed back downstairs, leaving the two brothers standing there awkwardly. Gabriel, naturally, began to instantly wink and nudge at Castiel.

“So. Dean. You and him? Doing the do?”

“Can we please not have this conversation?” Castiel said tightly, which resulted in Gabriel rolling his eyes.

“Fiiiine. But I demand the full story of you two ASAP, got it?”

“……….naturally.” Castiel grabbed a stack of essays off his desk and left the room, leaving Gabriel to unpack.

* * *

_Heat._

_Indescribable heat._

_Fire licked at his legs, climbing its way up and leaving him struggling to breathe. Dean tried to scream, but the smoke clogged his throat, and all he could do was gasp as he watched Alastair knife his family while they screamed for him._

“Dean!”

_A voice called his name from a great distance. There was a faint blue light, and Dean fixed his gaze upon it._

“Dean, wake up!”

_He blindly reached out, and took the hand that was being offered. The sound of rushing wings replaced the horrors before him, and he felt himself being cradled gently in broad arms. He looked up to meet the hard gaze of blue eyes._

_“What?”_

**_“It’s okay, Dean. You’re safe now.”_ **

Dean jolted awake, tears streaming down his face, and shot upwards into waiting arms. He clung to the person in the dark, shaking. Strong hands stroked his hair as the person knelt next to the couch, holding him in much the same way the……..angel?........had in his dream. Dean sobbed into the warm shoulder without knowing exactly why, and Castiel spoke softly.

“It’s okay, Dean. It’s okay.”

Dean couldn’t even bring himself to feel embarrassed. He held onto Castiel and allowed himself to be comforted. Once his breathing had returned to normal and he’d stopped panicking, he pulled back and looked at Castiel.

“Um. Sorry.”

“For what?” Even in the dark shadows of night, he could still tell that Castiel looked genuinely perplexed.

“For being a complete nutcase, maybe? If you want to go live with more normal people, I get it. You don’t have to do this.”

Castiel pinched the bridge of his nose and closed his eyes. “Dean, I am here because I want to be. I enjoy living with you. And you are not a nutcase, you are one of the best people I know – you’re even sleeping on the downstairs couch so that my insufferable older brother may stay here for an indefinite period of time. Now, come upstairs.” He rose and stretched out a hand. Dean blinked.

“What?”

Dean could practically _hear_ Castiel rolling his eyes. “This couch is going to make your final stages of recovery impossible. Sleeping on it will aggravate any lasting injuries you may have, and possibly add more. Come upstairs so you can sleep in a proper bed.”

“But I-“

“ _Dean Winchester it is 4am you will come upstairs and sleep in a bed or so help me god I will hide the keys to the Impala_ ”

Dean blanched. “You wouldn’t!”

“Right now, I’m tempted to. Come on.”

He took the proffered hand and allowed Castiel to pull him upstairs, the both of them collapsing into Dean’s bed and falling asleep instantly. Dean’s final thought before he was pulled under by exhaustion was of the warmth of Castiel’s hand still tangled with his, and the hope that the morning wouldn’t retain any lingering awkwardness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay I'm not even gonna bother responding to comments individually because they all made me want to hide my face in a pillow from how much they made me smile. It's fucking embarrassing how happy they made me, honestly. Thank you all so much though ahhh keep them coming I love them!


	11. Another Awkward Morning & A Fetish

Of course Dean’s hopes for an awkward-free morning were in vain. He awoke slowly, only realising what had woken him when it was too late. The sound of quiet snapping was heard, and he reluctantly raised his head to peer over Castiel’s broad shoulder, at where the sound was originating from, before scowling.

Gabriel stood there, disposable camera in hand, grinning from ear to ear.

“Aren’t you two adorable! And Cassie had me half-convinced there wasn’t anything going on between you two!”

_What?_

Too late, Dean realised he and Castiel were curled around one another, legs tangled and arms holding the other man close, and that the fact that Castiel was breathing steadily into his shoulder wasn’t exactly platonic. He closed his eyes briefly, before sighing and nudging Castiel awake hesitantly.

“Uh, dude, maybe you should wake up. Like. Now.”

Castiel grumbled and curled up tighter, pressing his nose into Dean’s shoulder. “Noo…….stupid,” he mumbled. Dean raised his eyebrows and Gabriel snorted.

“So he still talks in his sleep?”

“Yep.”

Castiel groaned, and blinked a few times as he roused himself, frowning in confusion at the golden freckled skin before him.

“Um?”

Dean, missing the soft scratch of Castiel’s stubble against his skin, smiled awkwardly. “Hey there. We gotta stop meeting like this, ya know.”

Castiel blushed. “Oh. Sorry.”

“ _Well,_ ” Gabriel spoke pointedly, and Castiel flinched, turning over slightly to see his older brother in the doorway. “I’ll leave you two to it.” He winked and vanished through the door, and Castiel allowed his head to fall back onto the pillow with a soft moan.

“Sometimes, I really hate him. And mornings. And everything, really.”

Dean grunted and rolled away so that he lay on his back next to Castiel. “Sorry.”

“I didn’t mean you!” Castiel said hastily, eyes widening. “I just…..you know what I mean.”

The green eyed man grinned. “Dude, it’s fine. I was more apologising for how your brother found us than anything.”

“Oh, that,” Castiel rolled his eyes. “It’s alright, he’s caught me in far worse positions.”

A raised eyebrow. “Oh, really now? I feel like this is something I should hear.”

“Um….”

Dean laughed, and threw back the covers to get out of bed. Castiel’s eyes tracked his movements, and lingered on the broad expanse of Dean’s back, before darting down to the dimple the marked the beginning of his tailbone, just above the waistline of his boxers. He bit his lip and averted his gave as Dean turned round, moving to rest on his elbows and give him a small smile.

Dean’s breath caught at the sight of Castiel propping himself up in bed, smiling at him, as if they’d just spent the entire night doing…..well, Dean wasn’t about to jump on that train of thought. Not in front of the guy, at least. He licked his lips unconsciously, and his eyes flickered down the where Castiel’s lower stomach was now exposed from where Dean had unceremoniously flung the sheets when getting out of bed, revealing a trail of dark hair that disappeared underneath his boxers and that Dean desperately wanted to follow.

With his tongue, if at all possible.

He cleared his throat.

“Uh, yeah. Thanks, anyway,” he said gruffly. “For you know, helpin’ me out last night.”

Castiel’s mouth went dry when he felt Dean’s eyes upon him. However, he persevered.

“Dean, I told you. It’s okay, and I’m here whenever you need me.” He gazed at Dean steadily, who stared right back for an indefinable amount of time before there was a loud thump from Castiel’s room, followed by a cry of “ _FUCKSHITGODDAMN MY TWIZZLERS!!!_ ”

Dean jumped, startled, and began to laugh, Castiel snorting along with him at Gabriel’s misfortune. Dean walked out the room, still chortling, and Castiel flopped back once more, trying to summon the will to leave the warm bed and the scent of leather, musk, and apple cinnamon that somehow all coalesced into an underlying feeling of _Dean_.

_Heaven help me._

* * *

Dean locked the bathroom door and took in a deep breath, eyes closing. Of course, the image of Castiel in his bed instantly swam to mind, and he growled to himself, turning on the shower before stripping quickly and stepping in. He allowed the heat to pool in his groin, and as the hot water streamed down his skin he began to stroke languidly up and down the hardened flesh there.

“Aahhhh……” he sighed in relief, head tilting back and letting the water run down his body, accentuating the sensation and giving Dean the chance to imagine that it was long, lean fingers caressing his skin, a hand that didn’t belong to him tracing the think vein up his cock before wrapping itself firmly around him and gently sliding up and down with a smooth rhythm. Dean’s breath caught, and unbidden a word slipped out from between his clenched teeth.

“ _Cas….._ ” he hissed, and behind his closed eyelids the image of Castiel, propped up in his bed, made itself known. Realising what he had said, he bit his lip, groaning instead as he breathing grew faster and faster in time with his hand, imagining Castiel kissing him, touching him, whispering in his ear as he ran his finger lightly across Dean’s balls, feeling them tighten.

“Ahhh……” he groaned, and cried out wordlessly as he came all over his hand and the wall in front of him. He cleaned himself up, refusing to think about what had just happened, before wrapping a towel around his waist and heading into his bedroom to get dressed, water still dripping down off his hair.

Of course, as he walked into his bedroom Castiel _had_ to be there, back to him, ass presented to the world as the naked History teacher rummaged about in a bag for some underwear. Dean thought he gulped, but what came out instead was a low “gnnnnngh”.

Castiel squeaked and flinched, hands flying up to cover himself despite the fact that he already had his back to Dean. Luckily he had a pair of boxer shorts in his left hand, and he arranged them so that nothing was showing as he turned to face Dean, eyes wide and looking horrified.

“I don’t……I thought the door was locked,” he said lamely, flushing at the way Dean was completely unable to drag  his gaze away, eyes roaming over all the uncovered flesh before him like an unconquered land. “I’ll just…..I’ll put these on….”

He turned back around, and Dean, whose mind had completely short-circuited by this point, thanked his lucky stars that his refractory period had significantly lengthened since his teenage years, otherwise he would’ve had to deal with the most awkward tent to ever grace his towel in front of the guy he had just jerked off to the thought of. As it was, his dick still gave an interested twitch at the sight of Castiel bending over to tug his boxers on, giving Dean yet another perfect view of his perfectly curved, pale-skinned ass, and Dean had to bite his lip and turn his head as he gripped his towel just that little bit tighter. Castiel, finally semi-decent, hastily ran past Dean out the room, slipping on a white button-up as he did so and muttering an apology. Dean stared after him, mouth open, before his legs gave out and he was forced to lean against the wall.

“Shit.”

* * *

After dressing in a complete daze, Castiel stumbled downstairs to find Dean watching Gabriel pile sugar and syrup on his pancakes with an expression of disgust mixed with utter fascination. Gabriel beamed to himself as he topped off the sickly concoction with a hearty dose of whipped cream, and proceeded to shove a large forkful into his mouth.

“How are you not dead yet?” Dean asked Gabriel, and then turned to Castiel. “Seriously, how is he not dead yet?”

Castiel and Gabriel shrugged, but it was Castiel who spoke. Dean had been rendered speechless at the sight of Castiel in sweatpants and an old, worn grey AC/DC t-shirt, slumped in the doorway with his arms folded, a weary expression on his face and being quite possibly the hottest thing Dean had ever seen. Noticing how Gabriel was grinning at him, he snapped back to paying attention to what the fucking vision in his kitchen doorway was saying.

“I’m not entirely sure. By all logic, he should have died about ten years ago. I’m sure scholars worldwide are speculating on this,” he said dryly. Dean smirked.

“Ooo hgdnf jrakus mmf ei mprpors,” Gabriel spoke through a mouthful of food, spraying crumbs across the table. Dean looked faintly sickened, and Castiel rolled his eyes at his brother’s lack of decorum. The shorter man swallowed. “You’re just jealous of my superpowers, Casasandwich.”

“Of course. I am incredibly jealous of your ability to eat the most sickening foods imaginable and not die. How you saw right through me is a miracle,” Castiel said, moving over to the fridge. “Dean, would you like a less………fatal breakfast? I think we have enough bacon for the both of us.”

Dean nodded and stood up from where he’s been straddling a backwards chair, smiling. “Sure, I’ll make the coffee.”

Gabriel squealed and waved his fork around, causing a chunk of pancake to fly off the utensil and smack Dean in the forehead. Dean’s smile instantly turned into the expression he only usually reserved for when a student had managed to leave a wrench stuck under the hood of a car (no, it had actually happened once, and the smoke pouring out of the hood had been enough to fill the entire AutoShop), and he stiffly wiped his forehead with his sleeve. Gabriel was entirely oblivious to this of course as he said excitedly, “Aw, it’s like you guys are married already! Which one of you two cutie patooties wore the dress?? I bet it was Dean, I know how Cassieboo has a fetish for guys in lingerie.”

Both Dean and Castiel froze for different reasons. Castiel turned to his older brother, hissing “ _Gabriel_ ”, as Dean’s thoughts turned to the box he kept at the back of his sock drawer, which he had never shown anyone. Gabriel grinned.

“Aw, Cas, don’t you remember how I caught you with….oh what was his name?....Bartholemew! That was it! And he was in that lacy get up, and you were-“

“ _Gabriel. Enough.”_ Castiel’s voice was like thunder, in contrast to his panicked expression. Dean looked between the two of them, doing his best not to look as turned on as he felt at the thought of Castiel actually having a fucking _kink_ for guys in lingerie.

 _And WOW not continuing down that line,_ he thought, and made himself busy with the coffee maker as Castiel and Gabriel stared at each other – Castiel looking like he would willingly smite his brother, Gabriel grinning like he knew something no one else did.

All of a sudden, Dean couldn’t wait for Castiel’s older brother to leave. He made the coffee in quiet symphony with Castiel as the other man fried eggs and bacon silently. The tension was palpable, and Gabriel scarfed down his pancake stack before beating a hasty retreat up the stairs to get properly dressed. Once he was gone, Castiel let out a heavy exhale and braced himself against the counter, closing his eyes.

“I’m sorry you had to see that, Dean. My brother has no sense of privacy or boundaries. I’ll ask him to leave as soon as possible – you shouldn’t have to deal with this in your own home.”

Dean sighed, and knew that he wouldn’t be able to kick Gabriel out from his home after hearing the despondency in Castiel’s voice. “It’s fine, man. He’s a pain in the ass but he’s your family. And family sticks together, so he can stay here as long as he needs to, got it? But if he ends up mysteriously dead I have absolutely nothin’ to do with it,” he added as an afterthought. Castiel smiled, and Dean knew that letting Gabriel stay was 100% worth it if it made Castiel smile.

“So, ignoring the awkwardness this morning again?” Dean stared determinedly at the coffee maker as he asked, willing the memory of Castiel’s perfect body away from his mind. Likewise, Castiel gazed into the depths of the frying pan as if it held the secrets to life within the bubbling oils.

“Sounds good to me.”

“Awesome.”

* * *

Dean was watching Dr. Sexy when Gabriel cornered him. Castiel was in his room, grading papers and ignoring everyone, so Dean was utterly defenceless when the short man flopped down next to him with a conspiratorial grin. “So, Castiel.”

“What about him?” Dean growled – Gabriel was talking over Dr Piccolo ranting at Dr Sexy, and Dean had been waiting for her to finally yell at him for a whole damn _season_.

“Dean and Cassie sitting in a tree, K-I-S-S-I-N-G,” Gabriel sang.

“-he hates being called Cassie-“

“First comes love, then comes marriage, then comes a baby in a baby – well, if either of you manage to birth a child then call the Pope and tell him it’s a fucking miracle,” Gabriel nudged him. “So, when were you gonna tell my baby bro you’re madly in love with him?”

“Jesus fucking Christ, Gabriel, you barely know me.”

“So you _are_ madly in love with him?” Gabriel grinned, and Dean simply scowled at the television. “I’m calling dibs on maid of honour, here and now.”

“Dude.”

“Duuuuuuuuuuuude.”

“It’s just – I’m not – Can we please not have this conversation?” Dean leaned forward and rested his head in his hands. Gabriel’s babbling was going to be the death of him – between that, the nightmares, Castiel’s goddamn sex appeal coupled with his complete lack of awareness about it, and the fact that the more he was attracted to Castiel, the more he could hear Sam in the back of his head telling him how much of an idiot he was, Dean wasn’t even sure how he was still upright and breathing. “I’m not good for him. Not good enough for him. And that’s it. Got it?”

Gabriel shrugged and lifted his hands. “Well okay then. But you should probably know – Castiel and Balthazar were together for fuckin’ _years_ , and he’s never looked at anyone the way he looks at you.”

He got up and left the room, leaving Dean to stare blankly at the television in front of him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> iamnopsycho - Here's exactly what you said :D Aaaaand another awkward wake up moment for them. I like writing those way too much hit me.
> 
> Inferification - Gabriel really did have a field day haha
> 
> typewrittentragedian96 - OMFG YOU'RE READING MY FIC AHH I'M READING YOURS THE HOSPITAL AU ONE WHERE CAS HAS A STUTTER EVERYONE SHOULD READ IT I LOVE IT okay I'm good. THANK YOU FOR YOUR CAPITAL LETTERS OF ENTHUSIASM!!!!!
> 
> CastielWinchester - Gabriel's just....gonna be Gabriel, because he can't do it in the show.
> 
> Jewel - Oh my glob don't be mad about that read it allllllll. Thank you :D
> 
> deanspieinthesky - I have updated!! Thank you so very much :)


	12. The Twizzler Incident

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A sort of chapterlet thing for everyone who wanted to know what happened to Gabriel's Twizzlers after he woke them up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a (really) short addition - there will be a proper chapter posted Sunday, don't worry! Also some humour because of that fucking finale. Comment responses at the bottom

Gabriel hummed merrily to himself as he trotted back into his room, camera in hand. Now, if only he had a co-conspirator to get those two together, they’d be married within a week! The only problem he could see was their own blind stupidity towards how the other felt.

He flicked through the photos he’d taken of them asleep, and sniggered at the picture they made – his baby brother (Gabriel didn’t care that Castiel was 30 years old; he’d always be the dorky 14 year old Gabriel caught staring at the male Calvin Klein model in the shop window) wrapped around the bulky Autoshop teacher, who in turn was snuggling him right back.

 _I don’t care how macho he is, I have photographic evidence saying he wants my brother as his own personal teddy bear,_ he thought to himself. He was still idly thumbing through the photos, not taking his eyes off the camera, as he reached into his bag. His fingers encountered something warm and sticky, and with a growing sense of horror he placed his camera on Castiel’s bed before cautiously upending his bag on the floor. In the middle of his now sticky clothing lay wrappers that were now oozing clear red gunk. Gabriel took a deep breath before releasing his anger.

“ _FUCKSHITGODDAMNMYTWIZZLERS!!!”_ he screamed, more concerned about his Twizzlers than the clothes they’d somehow melted all over. He dimly heard Dean and Castiel laughing through the wall that separated the bedrooms.

“Assholes were made for each other,” he muttered, gingerly picking up his ruined possessions.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had Twizzlers once, and I left them in the sun and they went all sticky and melty it wasn't fun.
> 
> Inferification - Have more Gabriel! And yeah, I think everyone's in the mindset of "JUST KISS ALREADY" and dying inside over Dean's self-worth issues both with the show and this fic haha I know I am
> 
> CastielWinchester - If you're feeling excited anticipation I'm just really proud of my writing okay awesome
> 
> typewrittentragedian96 - AH THEY'RE SO GOOD THOUGH anytime seriously :D you write good. And please feel free to keyboard smash anytime it empowers me!
> 
> iamnopsycho - I have a slight addiction to writing Gabriel being a Destiel shipper someone stop me please haha and thank you :)
> 
> Jewel - I actually have it all planned out and I can't wait to write it when they do get together but I keep having to remind myself NOT YET argh
> 
> shiwolfe - All in one go?! Holy crap thank you please get some sleep! Hopefully won't be keeping you waiting much longer after I put this one up :)


	13. Pancakes, Reason, and a fluffy Bun

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> NEXT WEEKEND I WILL BE AT THE ARMAGEDDON EXPO IN WELLINGTON WITH MY SISTERS. FOR THOSE OF YOU WHO DON'T KNOW, THE ARMAGEDDON EXPO IS NEW ZEALAND'S CRAPPY VERSION OF COMIC CON. I WILL GET TO MEET SPN CAST MEMBERS AND I'M PRETTY EXCITED. HOWEVER IT ALSO MEANS NEXT WEEKS CHAPTER WILL PROBABLY BE LATE AND FOR THIS I APOLOGISE PROFUSELY.

_Three weeks later_

Dean was simply walking through the front door after a morning run when an arm grabbed him and hauled him into the living room, where he found himself face to face with a bright eyed, grinning Gabriel. He stepped back, terrified at the maniacal expression on the shorter man’s face.

“Uhh…….”

“Do you know what day it is in a week?” Gabriel hissed, still grinning. Dean shook his head, still fearing for his life. Gabriel leaned in, pulling Dean closer to whisper in his ear.

“It’s my baby brother’s birthday,” he said, bouncing back on his heels.

Dean stared at him. “You’re shitting me.”

Gabriel shook his head, still grinning like he’d won the lottery.

“Nope.”

The mechanic walked over to his couch and sat down, a frown appearing on his face. “Well, fuck. What should I buy him?”

Gabriel rolled his eyes. “Oh, I dunno. A teddy bear stuffed with your love for him?”

Dean threw a couch cushion at him. “Shut the fuck up, man. We’ve been over this like, twelve times already. It isn’t gonna happen.”

Three weeks had passed since the Twizzler Incident, and the three men had reached a – sort of – impasse. Dean still took the couch, but the nights when he was woken by a nightmare (at least 4 times a week), Castiel would either wake up to find Dean sprawled out beside him, or would go downstairs to physically drag him upstairs so he could get a good night’s sleep. They’d had a silent agreement – ‘if we don’t talk about it, it’s not weird’. Gabriel, for his part, didn’t say much about it, but the pointed looks he sent their way each morning spoke volumes.

Gabriel threw the cushion back at him. “You guys are killing me! Anyway, Castiel……he didn’t really have the best birthday celebrations as a kid. So you better make this one good for him.”

Instead of tossing the cushion back, Dean placed it on his lap, subconsciously smoothing the cover out with the pads of his thumbs. “What do you mean, ‘he didn’t have the best birthday celebrations as a kid’?”

A shrug. “Ask him. But don’t you dare make it suck.”

“Why the hell are you putting this one on me?!” Dean demanded, scowling. “You’re his freaking brother! Why aren’t you making it awesome?”

Gabriel threw his hands in the air. “Look, man, I haven’t been the best older brother to him. A lot of shit went down when we were kids – why do you think he moved all the way here from _England_ with a guy he’d only just started getting serious with??”

“Uhh…..”

“Exactly, jackass. Sooo, what do you wanna do?”

Dean looked up at him. “He’s gonna have the best friggin’ birthday ever.”

Gabriel whooped. “That’s the spirit!” His cheering was cut off, however, by Castiel stumbling down the stairs, yawning grumpily. Taking long, slow blinks, his eyes remained mostly shut as he stretched his arms above his head. Dean’s attention was claimed as the man’s AC/DC shirt – _that fucking shirt_ – rode up and exposed his hip bones while his arms twisted and his back cracked.

“Mmmm…..coffeee….” Castiel mumbled as he shuffled into the kitchen. Dean watched, and caught Gabriel watching him with a smirk. He threw the cushion once more, hitting the shorter man smack in the face.

“Shut up,” he muttered, heading upstairs as he called a brief “Morning, Cas!” into the kitchen, which was answered by Castiel smiling and calling out “Hello, Dean.”

Once he was showered and dressed, Dean slumped in his room, thinking about what to do for his – roommate? Best friend? Unrequited Crush? – _friend’s_ birthday. He grabbed the nearest pen and paper, and began to brainstorm ideas. Eventually, though, he was distracted simply by thoughts of Castiel – the way he said the weirdest shit in his sleep (and _no_ , Dean was _not_ thinking about Castiel’s random sleepy ‘love you’ _at all_ ), the way his eyes changed hue according to his mood or the light, the way he always needed a coffee as soon as he entered the kitchen, the way he – nope, Dean wasn’t going to start waxing lyrical about the guy in his head again.

 _Dean, you’re never gonna get anything done if you don’t confront how you feel about him!_   Sam whined at the back of Dean’s skull. He sighed, moved the Birthday Brainstorm to the side of his desk, and began a new project:

**Reasons Why I Absolutely Should Not Love Castiel Novak**

* * *

Castiel was barely conscious as he moved around the kitchen, only managing to create the perfect coffee as a result of weeks of practise. He made sure the machine was ready for Dean to make himself a mug, because Dean’s coffee addiction was almost as bad as Castiel’s and if there was one thing Castiel liked, it was a Happy Dean.

That thought stopped him in his tracks and his eyes opened fully. Castiel let out a low groan and leaned so that he was braced against the counter.

_Don’t think about it_

With a grunt, he raised himself off the counter and sat at the table, slurping moodily at his drink. A few minutes of peace followed until -

“Hello!” Gabriel popped his head round the doorframe before the rest of his body followed, beaming at Castiel.

“Hello, Gabriel,” Castiel muttered, taking another long slurp. Gabriel crinkled his nose at the sound.

“Do you have to do that? It’s amazing Dean’s as in love with you as he is considering you’re gross.”

Castiel rolled his eyes and slammed the mug down, making the table rock. “Gabriel, for the last time can we please not talk about this? Dean is not interested in me. End of story. Now please, allow me to drink my coffee in peace.”

Gabriel was about two seconds from slamming his younger brother’s head into the table from sheer exasperation. “Look, kiddo, I’ve been here less than a month and all you two do is make googly eyes at one another _and it is killing me_. For the love of all that is holy, tell him how you feel before I pull some serious shit.”

The History teacher looked as if he was seriously considering throwing his coffee at Gabriel. “You wouldn’t.”

“I just might.”

Lean fingers tightened around the novelty “I’m a fan of fluffy bunnies” mug Sam had once bought Dean as a gag gift, so it now read “I’m a fluffy bun”. 

“ _Gabriel_ ”

“ _Castiel_ ”

“Can we not do this? Please?” Castiel peered at the dregs of his coffee mournfully. “Make me more,” he demanded, holding out the mug to Gabriel. Gabriel looked at him impassively.

“How about hell no, you’re a grown man and I ain’t your babysitter anymore.”

A flurry of movement moved between the pair of them, picking up Castiel’s mug on the way. “Alright, I got it,” Dean said easily, breezing over to the fridge and flicking on the coffee maker. He paused to shoot a grin at Castiel. “Awake at last, huh?” he asked as he peered into the fridge over the sound of the coffee maker bubbling. Castiel ducked his head and smiled.

“Your bed is very comfortable, Dean,” he said – mostly to the table. Dean felt a blush start at the base of his neck and sneak onto his face without his express permission.

Dammit, he could freakin’ _feel_ the silent laughter wracking Gabriel’s body. He cleared his throat gruffly.

“Yeah, that’ll uh…be the memory foam,” he said, turning round to hand Castiel his coffee with a smile. “It remembers me,” he added, beaming at how awesome his mattress was. Castiel, taking the mug, smiled reflexively as he wrapped his hand around the mug once more.

“Thank you Dean,” he said in a low voice, and as Dean’s fingers brushed against his, his heart thudded painfully. Forcefully reminding himself that he was not, in fact, in a teenage romantic comedy, he ignored his reaction and took an excessively long draught of coffee as he watched Dean bend over in front of the fridge. Castiel nearly choked at how Dean’s ass was perfectly defined by his jeans, and shot a glare at Gabriel, who was still giggling.

“Gabriel, do you have somewhere to be?” he asked heatedly. Gabriel raised his eyebrows.

“Yeah! I….uh…….I’m pretty sure there’s a Cheesecake Factory in town advertising for workers,” he chirped, and backed away. After a few seconds, they heard the front door slam, and Dean turned to Castiel with wide eyes.

“You mean this is _permanent?!_ ”

* * *

Six days later, Castiel woke up on his birthday to an empty bed. He sighed, knowing that it was stupid to wish to wake up next to Dean Winchester, in a blatant mockery of a romantic relationship.

Still would have been nice, though.

He hauled himself out of bed, slipped into a white button-down that he found on the floor (leaving the front undone) and a pair of sweats, and padded downstairs in search of his morning fix. He was still rubbing the sleep out of his eyes when he entered the kitchen, which of course caused him to walk smack bang into Dean himself. His eyes flew open to the sight of Dean, who was looking both immensely apologetic and alarmed while wearing an apron that had a picture of a teddy bear saying “I wuv hugs <3” on it.

“Um?” Castiel asked. Dean blushed, eyes trailing up from where they’d been locked onto his naked chest.

“Um. Birthday. Yours. Pancakes??” He stammered, and Castiel noticed he was holding a spatula in one hand. “I made….pancakes…..” he finished lamely, pointing at a stack of blueberry pancakes and a steaming mug of coffee on the table. “It’s a birthday. Thing.”

Castiel moved over to the table, mouth open. “You did this…..for me?” he asked, looking at the now bashful Dean. Dean shrugged.

“Well, yeah. Me ‘n’ Sammy had….this thing. Birthday Boy gets pancakes. And I know you like blueberry ones, so….” He shrugged, the spatula hanging uselessly by his side.

Castiel couldn’t speak through the lump in his throat. Without conscious thought, he stepped forward and wrapped his arms around Dean, hugging him tightly. Dean’s breathing stuttered, and he really hoped Castiel couldn’t feel the way his heart was hammering against his ribs as he tentatively hugged him back.

“Thank you,” Castiel breathed into Dean’s shoulder. Dean rubbed his back and hugged him more firmly, and Castiel could feel him smiling into his hair, just like he could feel the rough material of Dean’s apron against his bare skin.

“No need to thank me, idiot. It’s your damn birthday,” he said gruffly. They stood for a while, hugging, before Dean pulled back awkwardly. “So uh, yeah. Pancakes might get cold,” he said. His crooked smile, inches from Castiel’s face, made Castiel unable to take his gaze away for a few seconds as what Dean had just said sank in. He blinked and nodded.

“Of course. Thank you,” he replied, and sat down at the table to dig in. At the first bite, he let out a loud moan. “Dean, these are amazing!”

Dean, who had stiffened at his moan of appreciation, snorted. “Of course they are, I made them.” He shot a wink at Castiel over his shoulder while frying himself some bacon. “What, you never got special birthday pancakes?”

The brunet didn’t smile back as he flashed back to memories of all the lonely birthdays he’d had growing up. “Not really, no. Birthdays were never the best of days for me.” He lifted his gaze to give Dean a weary smile. “This one is already by far my favourite.”

A frown as Dean dumped his own plate on the table and began to eat. “Jesus, man. All I’ve done so far is make you pancakes. Wanna talk about it?” When Castiel’s eyes widened, he hastily added, “you don’t have to if you don’t want to! I mean. If you do. I’m here.” Again he offered his awkward, crooked smile, and Castiel felt his heart warm.

“It’s fine, Dean. I’ll tell you about it later. Right now I want more pancakes please,” he said, holding out his now empty plate expectantly. “The birthday boy needs feeding.”

Dean stared at him. “How the hell did you eat so quickly?!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> shiwolfe - I'm sorry it was so short! This is like 4x longer though so I hope it's satisfactory :) (and that's a relief)
> 
> iamnopsycho - That was the aim so I am glad :3 ahh don't say that to me I could write it all day!
> 
> Inferification - I think I'm still processing that finale and everything that happened I could write and talk about it for hours because OH MY GODS. Karma is kind of a bitch to Gabriel, but oh well. I like fluffy Destiel so much I think that's why I've written quite a bit of it ;_;
> 
> Jewel - I hope it was as awesome as you wanted it to be! PS I do too when I get the chance to have them


	14. Toy Story, cake, and a dash of Tom Hiddleston

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter took me like 2 weeks to write and this week has been insane - I went to the Armageddon Expo, met Samantha Ferris, Steven Williams, DJ Qualls, Jake Abel and James Patrick Stewart, my laptop broke and I had to fix it, and I got accepted into uni so I'll be moving out in a month! That also means that this fic will (with any luck) be done by July. So yeah.
> 
> Also let me know if there's any continuity or grammar errors - this work is unbeta'd. I'm planning for there to be about 3 more chapters or so, just a warning.

“So!” Gabriel poked his head into Castiel’s bedroom where the man was getting changed, causing him to yelp and hold his t-shirt close. “You’re liking your birthday so far?”

Castiel paused and looked at his older brother with a faint frown. “Yes, why?”

A smirk touched the shorter Novak’s lips, and Castiel instantly felt suspicion borne of years of living with Gabriel surge. “No reason, just wanted to know if you fancied a shopping trip with me today – you know I suck at  gifting so instead, you get to pick whatever you want and I’ll pay!”

The faint frown became more pronounced, and Castiel squinted at Gabriel apprehensively. “Is this a trick?”

Gabriel pressed a hand over where his heart lay, a shocked expression on his face. “How could you say such a thing?!” At Castiel’s raised eyebrows, he added, “Okay I get why you would think that. But this isn’t a trick, I just want you to have something nice on your birthday. I’m not the best big brother and I wanted to make it up to you.”

Castiel paused as he shrugged into a clean blouse and jeans. “Alright then,” he agreed.

The answering beam from his older brother almost made him reconsider. “Huzzah! An adventure! I’ll go get dressed and we can go!” He vanished out the room at top speed, and Castiel blinked before realising he’d just resigned himself to spending an entire Saturday at the mall with his older brother – on his birthday.

“Oh,” he said somewhat glumly into the sudden quiet of his bedroom. Once he was fully dressed and ready to leave, he went downstairs once more and found Dean staring avidly at the TV screen, where Toy Story was playing. He smiled at the sight, allowing himself a few moments of selfish observation, before clearing his throat. Dean jumped and blushed, fumbling for the remote.

“I….um….it was just on, okay?” he said defensively. Castiel snorted.

“I’m sure. Maybe one day we can marathon the trilogy,” he said, and Dean’s face lit up before he schooled it into one of careful agreement.

“Yeah! I mean….yeah, that’d be cool,” he said nonchalantly, but Castiel was still able to detect the glimmer of excitement that lay in his green eyes. Dean’s face then grew slightly tense. “You’re going to the mall with Gabriel, right?” he asked.

Castiel nodded guiltily. “Yeah. I mean….I didn’t get much choice….”he explained awkwardly. Dean waved off his apologetic tone.

“No it’s fine just……well, we’re throwing you a party,” he said. “And Gabriel wanted it to be a surprise so he’s taking you out for the entire day – you’ll probably end up stuck in an arcade so watch out for that – and I’m gonna be here setting up. I’m all for a party, man, but I know you’re not really a fan of surprise parties being thrown on you so I thought I’d give you some warning. May wanna let Gabriel think it’s still a surprise though.” He gave a small grimace. “Sorry.”

Castiel was frozen as he allowed the words to process. In fact, he was still for so long that Dean grew worried.

“Um, Cas? You okay?” he asked. Castiel shook himself and replied.

“Yeah. Just. Party? For me?” he asked, genuinely baffled. Dean’s eyes widened.

“Well yeah. It’s your birthday, and you’re awesome, so….” He shrugged. “Party.”

“Huh.”

“What? You never had a party before?” Dean frowned at his expression, rising from the couch. “Are you okay?”

Castiel’s mouth was dry and his eyes far too wet. “I’ve never….not for me. Never had any kind of party.” His arms worked their way out of being limp, enough for him to rub his left arm self-consciously. “This….this will be a first,” he admitted, and then Dean’s arms were around him, hugging him.

“Damn, Cas,” he breathed, and Castiel shivered at the hot, minty breath washing over his skin. “And you weren’t even gonna tell me it was your birthday?!”

“It was not of import,” Castiel muttered into the cotton shirt beneath his lips, and he felt Dean shake with a desperate laugh.

“’Not of import’ my ass,” he said firmly, before pulling away so that he could look into Castiel’s eyes. “You’re important, got it? And so is your birthday. So go, get the innocence knocked outta you by your disturbingly weird older brother so I can sort out your damn party!” He then leaned in and kissed Castiel’s cheek tenderly. The pair of them froze, eyes wide, and Dean’s arms dropped back to his side, hands flapping uselessly. “Um. I…….” he mechanically sat back down on the couch and stared blankly at where Woody and Buzz were riding RC. Castiel stood for a second, lips working silently, before touching his cheek hesitantly, still feeling the tingle of Dean’s lips.

“I’ll just……” he strode over to the front door and left, reflexively grabbing his trenchcoat and throwing it on before shutting the door. On the couch, Dean shuddered and rested his head in his hands as his elbows rested on his knees, running his fingers through his hair. In his head, Sam began to laugh.

 _Dude could you BE any more obvious?_ He chortled. _Just tell him already!_

“Shut up,” Dean growled, and flicked the TV off before standing up and stretching. “Okay, where the fuck are the balloons?”

Outside, Castiel threw himself into Gabriel’s Ford, instantly recoiling at the unfamiliarity of it – _not soft leather where’s the tape player WHY ARE THERE SEATBELTS wait seatbelts are good Dean should put seatbelts in the Impala so it’s safe for children WHY AM I THINKING ABOUT CHILDREN STOP IT NOW_ – and growled “Drive.”

Gabriel, who had started on his fifth Starburst waiting for his brother, paused. “You okay?”

Castiel sighed and leaned his forehead against the cool glass, staring up at the grey sky. “Yes, I’m fine. I was just thinking about Nick and Michael.”

“Oh.” Gabriel’s hand hovered over the ignition before starting the car. “Let’s go!”

And the Ford took off in the mall’s direction, Castiel immediately regretting not putting on his seatbelt sooner.

* * *

Seven hours later, Castiel staggered up to the front door, laden with bags and still in mild shock. Gabriel bounced along beside him, carrying yet more bags, and a stuffed bear under one arm, grinning madly from ear to ear. Castiel’s hair was sticking up in all directions, and he was now sporting a bruise that was blossoming across his right eye as he stared blankly at his front door.

_Ah. Yes. The Party._

“Did we…?” he began, and Gabriel nodded.

“Yup.”

“And you…?” he looked at his brother, who was beginning to shake with laughter.

“Yup.”

Castiel stared at the bags in his arms, which were overflowing with products that included – but were not limited to – a various assortment of differently sized dildos, multiple flavours of lube, women’s lingerie, an enormous bag of jellybeans, and every film starring Johnny Depp on Blu-ray. “And the stripper…?” he said hesitantly. Gabriel held back a snort.

“I’m sure she appreciated your girlish squeals of terror, Castiel. As did the bouncer,” he raised an arm to gesture at the bruise Castiel was sporting and his arm jangled. Castiel instinctively stepped back in fear – he knew all too well what Gabriel had purchased that made that noise.

“Right. Well. Would you mind unlocking the door? My arms are full.”

Gabriel shuffled in front of him – almost pushing Castiel off the doorstep in the process – and unlocked the door before nudging it inwards with his foot.

“After you, milady,” he said, shoving Castiel in the front door.

Of course, he had to trip over his foot as he fell inwards with the door, landing flat on his face as a chorus of voices yelled, “SURPRISE!! Oh…”

He looked up at where Dean, Ellen, Jo, Bobby, Lisa Braedon, Ash, Charlie, and about half the faculty from Lawrence High School were all staring at him lying in a small puddle of dildos and underwear, and simply muttered, “Gabriel. I _will_ _end you._ ”

Dean was the first to break the silence, collapsing with laughter. “Jesus, Gabriel, you said you’d take him out, not traumatise him!” He walked over and helped Castiel up. “Come on, dude. I’ll help you with your…stuff…and um. Some stuff for your black eye. And when you’ve stopped wanting to die of shame, feel free to join us!” Grabbing a few bags in one hand and Castiel’s arm with the other, he frogmarched the other teacher up the stairs.

Once they were inside Dean’s room, Dean slammed the door and leaned against it, howling with laughter. “Holy shit, what the hell happened?! I am so sorry for leaving you with your brother, I didn’t think you’d end up half dead!” Castiel stared at him.

“I think I’m still in shock, to be honest. I mean, we went to a pub. And they gave us lots of free birthday drinks and it’s kind of a bit of a blur but I think there’s a picture….” He fumbled in his pocket, stared at what he found, and shoved it back in promptly. “No. No picture. Definitely not.”

“What’s that? Lemme see,” Dean darted over and snatched Castiel’s hand out of his pocket, which was still holding the photo. He gaped in astonishment.

It was a somewhat blurry self-taken photograph by Gabriel, with the man himself beaming in the foreground and pointing in the general area behind him – where Castiel, in all his bare-chested glory, was stood on a bar, clearly singing his heart out. Along the bottom of the photo were hands thrust into the space in front of Castiel’s knees, holding out dollar bills. Castiel’s tie was tied around the crown of his head, and he had a dazed look on his face but was clearly enjoying himself. Dean raised his eyebrows and handed the photo back.

“We gotta get your drunk more often, dude.”

Castiel was beet red. “So that happened. And then we went shopping, and Gabriel went a little nuts in the sex store, and then there was a strip joint and he tried to buy me a lapdance but I may have gotten scared and then there was a fight and the bouncer punched me and it was rather rude of him but I think he can be excused in this circumstance considering Gabriel was trying to sing ‘God save the Queen’ to the tune of ‘Back in Black’ and I-“

He was cut off by Dean pressing cold flannel to his head. “Hey, you’re fine now,” Dean said, smiling gently and lifting Castiel’s hand to hold it firmly against the black eye. “And I think you’ll live, so uhh…” he took a nervous step back. “Just hold it there for a bit and it’ll hurt less. And when you’re up to it just come down. If you want. I made cake! And pie. If you want.” He turned and left the room, a crooked smile on his face. “So yeah. Glad your birthday’s a bit more exciting than you’re used to, I guess.”

Castiel sat down on Dean’s bed, and fell back onto the mattress.

 _Just a quick nap,_ he thought to himself, and closed his eyes.

* * *

Dean thundered down the stairs and hauled Gabriel out of the living room.

“Kitchen. Now,” he growled. Gabriel, dragged backwards away from where he was gesticulating wildly at Ellen and Bobby, was unable to protest.

Alone in the kitchen, Dean folded his arms and glared.

“The hell, dude? You were meant to entertain him for a few hours, he looks like he’s been on the bender from hell for a month! And I would know – I’ve been on a couple!”

Gabriel rolled his eyes. “He’s fine, Dean. I wouldn’t let him actually get seriously injured!”

“You let a bouncer punch him in the face!”

“I didn’t mean for that to happen!”

“Well it did! You can’t just…fuck, Gabriel, why would you even let that happen?!” Dean’s fists clenched and unclenched as he willed himself to not punch the short man in front of him. Gabriel bristled and stepped forward so that they were nose to nose, unfazed by Dean’s rage.

“Look here, you whiny ass. I can’t control every fucking thing that happens in my brother’s life, and neither can you! He’s fine, he’s a grown man who can make his own damn decisions, and you with your bone-headed macho anger isn’t gonna scare me one bit because me and Castiel up there? We’ve seen and lived with a hell of a lot worse.”

Dean deflated and leaned back, bracing himself with one hand on the counter and scrubbing down his face with the other. “You know you’re gonna have to tell me about that shit one day. I’m…I’m sorry man. Thanks for yelling at me. Sounded like my old man for a second there.” He grimaced. “Not fun. But I’m just gonna go check on him. Give people pie and food for me?”

Gabriel sighed and walked over to the oven, which was warming the apple pie and allowing it’s intoxicating scent to fill the house. “Sure, just make sure he isn’t ready to kill me or anything.”

Dean smiled awkwardly at the group in his living room, heading up the stairs and into his bedroom. He stopped dead when he saw Castiel splayed out on the bed, a small smile on his face and arms flung wide as he let out a quiet snore. Dean quietly shut the door behind him and leaned against it as he watched, biting his lip and debating what to do. After a few moments, he eventually walked over and gently lifted Castiel’s legs from where they hung off the edge of the bed, arranging the sleeping form so that Castiel was now lying fully on the bed. Tongue stuck out the side of his mouth from concentrating on not waking him up, Dean took off Castiel’s shoes before pulling up the blanket and tucking him in carefully. He reached out a hand to Castiel’s face, hesitating and retracting it a couple of times before sweeping a lock of hair off Castiel’s forehead and allowing his hand to rest on his cheek for a moment. Straightening up, he chuckled to himself and shook his head at how deeply Castiel was asleep before quietly leaving the room and shutting the door behind him.

* * *

“Is he alive??” Gabriel demanded as Dean re-entered the lounge and snatched a plate of pie out of his hands.

Dean rolled his eyes. “If he wasn’t, would I be standing here, talking to you?”

Gabriel considered this for a moment. “Well no, you’d probably be screaming and clutching his corpse to your bosom, declaring your undying love to his lifeless body and-“

“Shut up,” Dean interrupted, uncomfortable at the thought of Castiel dead – he’d had way too many nightmares about that exact situation. “He’s asleep. I didn’t wanna wake him. What do you wanna do?”

There was a shrug from the shorter man as he took the pie off Dean’s plate and began to munch it, earning himself a scowl from the taller man. “Keep on partying?”

A few crumbs stared back at Dean when he looked down at his empty plate miserably. “Yeah, whatever.”

* * *

When Castiel woke up, the room was filled with a warm gold light, the setting sun’s rays hitting every available surface. He pushed himself upright, and the blanket fell from his chest.

 _That wasn’t there before,_ he thought muzzily, and then climbed out of bed, noting that he still wore his trenchcoat, button-down shirt and black slacks, but his shoes had somehow managed to neatly arrange themselves by the wardrobe.

_How….?_

Castiel pulled off his clothes and folded them, pulling on a pair of sweats and a rumpled jumper over his bare chest before heading out of the bedroom.

Once he was downstairs, he was confronted with the sight of Dean and Gabriel on the couch, eating pie and having a heated debate over whether or not Tom Hiddleston was more attractive with brunet or blond hair.

“Dude, no! The dark hair really makes his eyes pop – have you not _seen_ The Avengers?!” Dean demanded, waving a fork around. Gabriel snorted and flicked a crumb at him.

“But with blond hair he looks like a baby angel!”

“Yeah, but my point still stands – dark hair makes his eyes look bluer, and it’s really fucking –“ Dean looked up and broke off at the sight of Castiel stood in the doorway. “Um. Hi.”

Castiel looked around the living room, avoiding both Dean’s eyes and the memory of the kiss on the cheek that morning, and raised his eyebrows. “What happened?”

At this, Gabriel stood up, pouting. “Well, we got home, you had a party waiting for you, and you decided to fall asleep in Deano’s bed. We continued to party for a couple of hours until the spoilsport kicked everyone out half an hour ago, and you’re just in time for cake!”

Dean kicked him. “It was a birthday party for Mr Comatose over there, and he was asleep. There wasn’t much point. But yeah, we have cake!” His eyes sparkled, but Castiel was feeling too guilty to notice as he looked at the floor mournfully.

“I’m sorry I fell asleep. You put so much effort into giving me a birthday party, and it was for nothing. Can I make it up to you?”

A million images of Castiel in various positions in Dean’s bed flashed through Dean’s mind within a split second before he glanced at Gabriel and saw the bastard _smirking._ “It’s fine, Cas, honestly. Just sit and eat cake with us and you can pick the movie.”

Castiel turned to look into the kitchen and saw a simply enormous chocolate cake set on the table. MnM’s dotted the sides, set in chocolate icing, and on top they spelt out “HAPPY BIRTHDAY CAS” next to a smiley face. There was a sudden pain in his chest when he turned and saw Dean, now standing up and watching his reaction anxiously.

“Um, is the cake okay? Gabriel was all for decorating it with candyfloss and jellybeans and stuff but I kinda figured you wouldn’t be as into that as he is so….” He shrugged. Castiel blinked, surprised to find his eyes stinging, and walked over so he could hug Dean once more.

“It’s the best. Thank you,” he mumbled. Dean patted his back uncertainly, and a sudden memory of that morning flashed through Castiel’s mind, causing him to pull back before he allowed himself to get too comfortable in Dean’s arms. “So, it’s all for me, right?” he asked, grinning. “Considering you guys probably finished off the pie.”

Dean looked guilty and shifted from one foot to another. Gabriel, on the other hand, beamed.

“Heck yeah we did! Anywhore, I’m whacked. I might go watch Gossip Girl,” and on that note, he spun on his heel and went upstairs. Dean, momentarily blindsided by the sudden exit, looked at Castiel.

“Gossip Girl?”

Castiel shrugged. “He has an obsession. Sometimes I’m convinced we aren’t related.” He grabbed a fork and stuck it into the cake, giving himself a forkful of cake. His cheeks puffed out and he grasped the handle of the fork in one hand as he slowly pulled it out of his mouth, closing his eyes and letting out a soft moan.

“Mmmf mmf mmf mmf MMF!” he said. Dean coughed.

“Um, what?”

After copious chewing and swallowing, Castiel was able to speak. “Dean, this is the best cake ever. I might have to make you make me cake for the rest of my life.”

Dean blushed. “You don’t have to say that, man. It’s just cake.”

Castiel, halfway through shoving another forkful into his mouth, scowled at him. “Dean, if I say this is the best cake ever, this is the best cake ever. Accept the compliment for once.”

Dean sighed and sat down opposite his friend. “Yeah, whatever. So uh, what’s the deal with you and birthdays anyway?”

Castiel paused and pushed the cake away before looking at him. “I didn’t have the best time growing up, Dean. I am the youngest out of my siblings – the eldest as twins, Michael and Nick. Then there was Anna, then Gabriel, then myself. Michael and Nick were constantly arguing, and my father was the only one who could keep them in line. Often they would take it out on the rest of us – they were fighting on my fifth birthday and I got in the way. I don’t remember much, but I woke up at the bottom of the stairs with a broken arm. My father was locked away in his study a lot, to avoid the responsibilities that come with such a large family. My mother didn’t take it too well and turned to alcohol. I and my siblings were largely ignored. My birthday was not a priority – I doubt any of them aside from Gabriel even remember my existence, let alone the date. When I was 10, my father died and my mother uprooted us to England. She….drank excessively. Michael and Nick were 18 by this point and didn’t accompany us. I haven’t seen them since. Because of her drinking, my mother was prone to taking out her anger on us, especially me once she caught me kissing another boy, and as soon as they were old enough Anna and Gabriel left, leaving me to bear the brunt of it. My birthday has never really been a cause for celebration. I studied hard and managed to earn myself a scholarship to Oxford University, where I met Balthazar. Once we graduated, we moved back to the US and….I suppose you know the rest.” He finished talking, staring at his hands, which were laced together on the table. Dean sat in shock for a moment before standing up and moving round the table, turning Castiel’s chair and crouching so that they were face to face.

“Cas, I kind of suck at this stuff. But you deserved none of that, you got it? You’re one of the best people I know, and the shit you had to go through just makes the fact that you are the nicest, sweetest guy ever even more special. You’re important and so is your birthday,” he said firmly. Castiel stared at him, his ability to breathe becoming slightly compromised.

“Thank you Dean,” he murmured, and Dean couldn’t stand the awed, doe-eyed expression on his face any longer. Without stopping to even think about it, he leaned in and pressed his mouth to Castiel’s.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ahahahahah don't hate me
> 
> Here's the link to my tumblr and the post about my Armageddon experience and cosplaying as Dean: http://secretlyademigodinthetardis.tumblr.com/post/87963281377/went-to-the-armageddon-expo-in-wellington-with-my
> 
> Inferification - I need more of that Dean in the show but that's completely unlikely now =.= and thank you :D I hope this isn't gag worthy either!
> 
> iamnopsycho - well, stuff happened so result! Kind of.
> 
> Jewel - Okay, waffles or pancakes? We generally do special breakfasts on birthdays but I'm real lazy so I make myself toast and yeah. But demand birthday waffles! And I hope this sort of solves the whole 'killing you' thing. Slightly.
> 
> shiwolfe - I HAD AN AMAZING TIME it was honestly the best weekend of my LIFE.
> 
> Cyledona - Shit will get real with Gabriel, I promise. I have the next few chapters planned out it's awesome.
> 
> mayenfamily100601 - Thank you! It's been difficult getting this chapter out but I hope it satisfies! I had so much fun that weekend too thanks :)
> 
> Gabriel - HERE YA GO and thank you for your approval :3


	15. It's a Motel

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Angst and stuff. Just saying. Sorry. Also I was going to have this done like tomorrow but then I realised tomorrow I'm meeting my friends puppy so I'm doing it today instead.

Castiel froze against Dean’s mouth, terrified.

_Oh shit I just kissed Dean oh god oh shit what do I DO??_

Dean pulled back, face grey, and stood up hastily.

“That was….” He stammered, backing away towards the door, “Umm, yeah. That was a mistake. I’ll just……I’ll just go.”

The door slammed behind him, and numbly Castiel heard the rumble of the Impala’s engine as Dean drove away. He stared at the empty space where Dean had been, still feeling the tingle that the brief touch of Dean’s mouth had brought.

_A mistake._

_Okay then._

* * *

Dean drove around Lawrence in a daze for a while, before pulling over by the Roadhouse and resting his head against the wheel. God, the way Castiel had just frozen against him in horror. He should’ve known Castiel wouldn’t want him, should never have even _thought_ about kissing him. He blinked, vision blurring, and after raising a hand to his face discovered that his cheeks were wet with tears.

“Fuck! Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, FUCK!” He yelled, slamming his hand against the dashboard in time with each expletive. A faint snort of laughter – _Sam_ – sounded, and it was as if his brother was there, 16 years old and laughing at him like the time Dean had been so distracted by Harrison Ford’s ass he’d walked into the doorframe of the movie theatre.

_Jesus Dean, I can’t believe you just kissed him like that. Why would you even think he’d want to kiss you?_

Dean scowled out the windscreen, ignoring the voice of his dead younger brother. After taking several deep breaths and scrubbing his face with his hands, he climbed out the car and slammed the door behind him, cutting off the sound as it rattled around his skull. He stalked into the Roadhouse, slumping in a booth and staring at the stained wood beneath his clasped hands.

“Dean?” Ellen asked, wiping out a glass. He grunted and didn’t look up. “Dean, what is it?”

“Can….” His voice was cracked and hoarse. Dean coughed, and tried again. “Can I just get some whiskey, please? Just…just gimme the bottle.”

She pursed her lips before placing a tumbler and a bottle of Jack in front of him, bracing her hands on the table as she leaned over him. “Fine. But you’re gonna talk, boy.”

Ignoring her in favour of pouring himself a drink, Dean downed it in one gulp, pouring himself another even as he swallowed. Ellen rolled her eyes and headed back to the bar, to the kitchen where her husband was sure to be skulking around.

A minute later, Bobby was sliding into the booth opposite Dean, a scowl on his face. “Boy, what the fuck did you do? When we left earlier, everything was fine!”

Dean, in the midst of knocking back another shot, gave him a black look as he set the glass down. “I fucked up. Big time,” was all he said, before topping up the tumbler and going to drink it. Bobby reached out and taking hold of the glass firmly grasped in his hands his hands.

“Tell me. No skipping out on details.”

Dean tugged at the glass, but Bobby’s hand didn’t move. He settled for rolling his eyes, letting go and staring at the table once more. “We were in the kitchen. I was talkin’ to him about…shit that happened in his life, and…fuck. I…” he gestured at empty space wordlessly. Bobby raised his eyebrows and set down the shot Dean had poured.

“Hmm?”

“Don’t look at me like that.”

“Like what?”

“Like you’re looking at me!”

“Dean, I swear to God, if you don’t tell me why you look like someone ran over your dog I’ll—“

“I kissed him, okay?!” Dean blurted out. Bobby stilled before replying.

“’Bout damn time too. Why the hell are you sittin’ here, then? Loverboy’s probably waiting for you right now!”

Dean stared at him. “Bobby, he didn’t even want me to kiss him. He just…froze up. So I left. Shit, it’s gonna be so awkward….can I crash here tonight?” he asked hopefully. However, the look on Bobby’s face told him the answer.

“Dean, I might smack you. That boy is head over heels for you, and you just kissed him and left without an explanation?” The older man’s hands tightened around the glass he held, and Dean swallowed reflexively.

“Look, Bobby, he doesn’t – I’m not good enough for him, man. He’s all smart and way outta my league and I’m just…..the only thing I can do is cars, remember?” he said self-deprecatingly, an echo of the final words Sam had shouted at him before going to his room the night he died: _“Fuck you, Dean! You don’t know **anything!** All you’re good at is working with cars, you don’t understand anything else! You’re so selfish – you don’t care about me! You don’t get **people!** You don’t get **me!** And you never will!” _ He gave a small huff, adding; “I’m not good with people. Everyone just leaves, and I might be sick of it but at least I’m used to it. Cas doesn’t feel anything like that towards me, he’s better off without me and my stupid feelings.” He made to grab the bottle, but Bobby stopped him, face like thunder.

“Keys. Now. I’m taking you home. Castiel is in love with you, asshat. He was there for you when you got the everloving shit beaten outta you, he has helped you through your recovery, the court case, hell he even threw you a damn party when you got home from hospital even though it was the least expected thing of him. He looks at you like the damn sun shines outta your ass, and he’s put up with all of your bullshit and grief over Sam. And you wanna know something?”

Dean glared at him. “What?” he gritted out, jaw jumping.

“His brother freaking _told_ me about a conversation they’d had where he said _he_ wasn’t good enough for _you_. That you’re too damn selfless and good and smart for him and he doesn’t deserve someone like you. So get your head outta your goddamn self-loathing ass, give me the keys, and let me drive you home so you can at least tell the poor man exactly how you feel!”

Stunned into silence, Dean handed over the keys to the Impala. Bobby rose, and grabbed the scruff of Dean’s jacket as he strode past to the door, hauling Dean out and into the passenger seat.

The entire ride home, Dean was jumpy – his legs twitched, he tapped out random rhythms on the dashboard, and he only stopped when Bobby gave him a piercing glare. “Are you sure this is a good idea, man?” he asked, terrified. Bobby pulled over outside the house.

“Get in there and tell him, Dean. It’ll be the best news of his life,” he said softly. Dean nodded, throat tight, and tore out of the car like a bat out of hell before his nerve broke and he sat in the car for hours.

He burst through the front door like a hurricane. “Cas?” he yelled, peering into the living room. It was empty. “Cas?!” The kitchen was empty too. He ran up the stairs, fear gnawing at his stomach. “ _Cas?!_ ” he pushed open the door of Castiel’s room, the door swinging open to reveal a bare room – devoid of possessions, the bed stripped, no evidence that anyone had been there in the first place. With what felt like a solid punch to his chest, knocking out all the air, Dean’s brain finally filtered through what he had failed to notice upon arriving home: Gabriel’s car hadn’t even been outside.

Just like everyone else in Dean’s life that he’d loved, Castiel was gone.

* * *

**_\- Literally like right after Dean left the house in a panic -_ **

Castiel touched his lips. If he closed his eyes, he could still feel Dean’s mouth, the way it had yielded after Castiel had so thoughtlessly kissed him without warning. Dean’s words still rang in his ears, causing him to wince and stand up before tearing up the stairs and bursting into his bedroom, where Gabriel was staring avidly at his laptop screen. At Castiel’s abrupt arrival, he jumped and yelped.

“Dude, we have a deal, no interr-“

“We have to leave.”

Gabriel gaped at him. “What? But-“

“As in, pack your things, I’m moving out, so you’re coming with me.” Even as he spoke, Castiel was running around the room, gathering up his possessions and stuffing them into bags in a hopeless mockery of the day he had left Balthazar. Gabriel stood up.

“Castiel, what the hell is going on?”

Castiel stopped and looked at him with wide eyes, clutching a briefcase in one hand and a pair of boxer shorts in the other. “I kissed him,” he hissed, knuckles whitening. “I kissed him, and he panicked, said it was a mistake, and left. I can’t live here anymore, so. We. Are. Leaving.”

His older brother pinched the bridge of his nose. “I can’t believe _this_ is my life.”

An hour later, the pair of them had loaded up Gabriel’s car and left, checking in at a motel a couple of blocks away from Lawrence High School. As Gabriel drove, Castiel leaned his forehead against the glass of the window and closed his eyes, wishing he had never set them on Dean Winchester.

_And I’m back to living at a motel. Again. Happy Birthday to me._

* * *

The next day was a Monday. Castiel called the school, and when Ms Rosen – Administration Secretary who unfortunately terrified both Castiel and Dean (Dean had been using her office account one day and found some….unfortunate writings of hers about the pair of them) – picked up, he simply told her he was ill and therefore unable to come in for work.

“I’m terribly sorry, Rebecca,” he said, in between imitating wheezing and hacking coughs while Gabriel rolled his eyes as he pulled on a clean shirt for work. “But I simply-“

“It’s fine, Castiel, really!” she gushed down the phone line. “And please, call me Becky. Any idea when you’ll be feeling better? It’s just the only teacher usually available to cover your class has also called in sick, we’re a bit short-staffed now.”

Castiel frowned. “Dean is sick?”

As he processed this, Becky went on chattering. He made small noises of agreement, before firmly saying “I will see you tomorrow, Ms Rosen,” and hanging up.

The entire rest of the day was spent in the motel room, arranging his things before sitting down on his bed and staring blankly at his laptop screen.

* * *

If you asked Dean later how his week had passed, he would avert his eyes and look guilty, before telling you he didn’t really remember. In truth, he spent a large part of it drinking, listening to a copious amount of Aerosmith and REO Speedwagon, and lying on the bed Castiel had vacated, staring miserably at the ceiling. Thankfully, Bobby was covering his classes, so Dean didn’t have to go into work and face Castiel and the memory of his horror at being kissed by Dean.

Of course, now that he was alone again, the nightmares returned. Nothing specific, but the hazy images of his family and Castiel, tortured, dead, turning on him, hurting him, abandoning him, was enough to make Dean wake every night screaming himself hoarse, reaching for the reassurance of Castiel’s presence and finding nothing but empty sheets. It became just another routine, like his daily run to the liquor store, and he would get out of bed and plod around in a blanket, determining where in whichever bed he decided to use where the lingering scent of Castiel was strongest.

It was creepy as hell and Dean hated himself for it, but it was the only way he was able to catch more than a couple of hours sleep at a time.

By the end of the first week, his fridge was empty. He stared at it vacantly before deciding a trip to the grocery store wasn’t worth it.

Dean curled up on the sofa clutching a mostly empty whiskey bottle, music playing over the speakers, before drifting off to sleep.

* * *

_“You know this is literally the most pathetic thing I’ve ever seen,” Sam said conversationally, leaning against the kitchen counter. He opened the fridge and poked around inside. “Seriously, dude, the only thing you have in here is a bag of salad. Since when do you eat salad?”_

_“Cas bought it,” Dean scowled from his seat at the table._

_“Oh yeah, Cas. The guy you – stupidly enough – fell for, despite the fact that he is at least ten times out of your league and probably thinks you’re a waste of space just as much as I do.”_

_“Shut up!” Dean slammed a fist down on the surface, and Sam simply smirked at him knowingly._

_“And there’s your problem,” he mused, shutting the fridge. “You’re like a Neanderthal Dean. All you can really do is fix cars, but you’re not even doing that right now are you? All because the guy you’re in love with doesn’t love you back. How sad is that?”_

_Dean stood up and went over to his brother. “Fuck you,” he spat, voice laced with venom. “I’m fucking done with this shit, you hear me? I’m tired of people leaving. Mom and Dad died, then you left for college, and then you fucking died too. My family is dead, and now Cas is gone too. For once, I just want to be able to feel upset about something!” And he punched Sam squarely in the jaw._

_Sam reeled back before straightening up and gritting his teeth. “You shouldn’t have done that,” he said, launching himself at Dean._

_They exchanged blows, fighting to gain the upper hand and slamming into hard surfaces, until Dean had Sam pinned to the floor._

_“You died,” he sobbed. “You died, Sammy, and all you can do is make me feel even worse than I already do.” He punctuated each word with a sharp hit to Sam’s face, and before he knew it Sam’s eyes had closed. Dean stopped and grabbed his brother’s shoulders. “Sammy?”_

_Sam wasn’t breathing._

_“Sammy! Sam!” he sat next to him on the cold linoleum floor, shaking him and crying. “Oh, god, Sammy no no no no no…”_

_“What did you expect?” A familiar voice came from behind him, and Dean turned to see the newcomer. Castiel stepped into the room, shaking his head. “I mean seriously Dean. You have a lot of fucked up issues, and now look at what you’ve done. You killed him. Again. No wonder I left.” He rolled his eyes and walked away._

_“No! Please, come back to me, please,” Dean sobbed, unsure of who he was addressing anymore._

* * *

Dean jolted awake on the couch to someone shaking him.

“Bobby?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't hate me.
> 
> CastielWinchester - THIS WON'T MAKE YOU HAPPY SORRY
> 
> iamnopsycho - They did! And then this happened...oops. But at least Castiel had a sort of birthday celebration!
> 
> HunterOfTheWord - Thank you so much :D and yeah the Bagelpocalypse was simultaneously awesome and terrifying. I don't have a Twitter account so I don't know much about that side, but my tumblr dash was glorious.
> 
> somanluna - I SO WISH I COULD HAVE AFFORDED TO GO TO ALL HELL BREAKS LOOSE IN AUSTRALIA seriously I would have killed to go. But Armageddon was so cool I'm still eeping about it. And argh they're such dorks. Heheh.
> 
> kellness - Well, that was both of their reactions....
> 
> mayenfamily100601 - :-) :-)
> 
> shiwolfe - THANK YOU :D I loved doing that cosplay I'm going to do it again at every opportunity. And I posted it early so here you go :)
> 
> Inferification - Ahhh Dean has issues but so does Cas they need each other like I'm not just talking about the fic I mean the show goddamn. And I'm not gonna be one of those writers who says their characters got away from them because I have had the final few chapters planned out since I started this thing. Some of this fic has just been stuff that occurred to me on the spot but yeah. Sorry for rambling >


	16. Bobby loses his shit

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SORRY SORRY SORRY for last chapter. Here is the next one, because I felt really bad. Apologies for the poor quality.

Bobby looked like he was torn between slapping and hugging Dean.

“The hell is going on with you, boy? I drop you off here to sort out your big crush and then you don’t leave the house for a week?! I had to break in here only to find you passed out on the couch screaming in your sleep!”

Dean groaned, the older man’s drawl piercing through the fog of his brain. “I’m fine.”

“Like hell you are,” Bobby snarled, snatching the bottle out of Dean’s hands, and Dean slumped back onto the couch. “You are gonna talk. Now.” He stood up and folded his arms as Dean turned his face to the back of the couch and let out a sulky moan.

“Nooo…”

A swift kick to the seat made Dean yelp before mumbling something inaudible into the fabric.

“What was that? Didn’t quite hear it.” Bobby called, walking into the kitchen to fill a glass with water. He paused, looking around at the sparse surfaces. “Where the hell is all your food? And Castiel?” Walking back in, he handed Dean the water before turning the whiskey bottle over in his hands.

“He left. Like everyone else. He’s gone. Can I have my booze back now?” Dean reached up, making grabby hands, and Bobby held the almost empty bottle out of reach.

“I’ll be right back,” he said, and walked outside. Dean reached for the bottle Bobby had left on the table and rolled off the couch, waving a hand in the air triumphantly.

* * *

The ringing of Castiel’s phone was really beginning to grate on his nerves. He fumbled around the bed before finding the buzzing device, pressing ‘answer’ and holding it to his ear.

“Hello?”

“Boy, you have some serious explainin’ to do.”

Castiel sat bolt upright. “Mr Singer?” He could faintly hear the strains of ‘D’yer Maker’ playing, along with an extremely familiar voice singing in the background.

“If I have to tell you to call me Bobby one more time…” Bobby growled, and Castiel winced at his ominous tone. “But what the hell do you think you’re doing to Dean?”

Castiel frowned. “What do you mean?”

“I mean he’s been moping around his house all week listening to the same songs on repeat because you ran away like an idjit when he kissed you!” Bobby said in a loud hiss. “And now I have to sort it out like you’re in fuckin’ middle school because apparently you aren’t mature enough to deal with it yourselves!”

“Wait,” Castiel said hurriedly. “I kissed him, Bobby. He freaked out, said it was a mistake, and ran away. I don’t want to live in such an awkward situation, so I’ve moved out.”

Dead silence.

“Bobby? Mr Singer? Are you there?” Castiel asked nervously, bringing his phone away from his ear to make sure the call was still connected. Sure enough, it was.

“Do you mean to tell me,” Bobby began slowly, “that both of you idjits think that you initiated the kiss, and that you both think the other freaked out about it?”

“Um.”

“Are you fuckin’ kiddin’ me?!” Bobby demanded, and Castiel held the phone away from his ear. “I can’t believe you two!”

“Sorry,” he replied in a small voice, and Bobby snorted. “Is…is Dean okay?”

“Listen,” Bobby held out his phone, and Castiel heard a loud, out of tune voice singing along to a familiar song.

“ _You're the reason I live_  
You're the reason I die  
You're the reason I give when I break down and cry  
Don't need no reason why  
Baby, baby, bayayby  
You're my angel”

Bobby returned the phone to his ear and Castiel swallowed. “Oh. That bad?”

“Mmhmm. Where are you? We need to talk.”

Castiel gave him the motel address and room number, and Bobby grunted.

“I’ll be there soon.”

* * *

Bobby came back in just as Dean was lying on the couch once more, belting out;

“ _Heard it from a friend who_  
Heard it from a friend who  
Heard it from another you been messin' around”

In sloppy time to the music. He snatched away the bottle, gritting out, “where’s the rest?”

Dean pouted. “You just took the last of it, asshat.” Bobby, not believing a word, walked over to the kitchen cupboard and unveiled the other two bottles of Jack stored there in the mostly empty space. He raised his eyebrows and Dean shrugged, closing his eyes.

“Whatever. I’m gonna sleep now.”

“Yeah, you do that,” Bobby mumbled as he made to leave. As he walked past Dean, he noticed a crumpled piece of paper on the table. “What’s that?”

“A thing,” Dean sighed, barely registering what Bobby was doing as he drifted off to sleep. Bobby picked up the paper, squinting at the words.

**Reasons Why I Absolutely Should Not Love Castiel Novak**

“Might come in handy,” he said, pocketing it and heading out the front door. Dean, completely oblivious, slept on.

* * *

Castiel was frowning at his hands when Bobby showed up. As soon as he opened the door, the older man burst in like a whirlwind, face set in a stony expression. “I swear to God, this is as bad as Dean’s whole ‘I didn’t eat the last piece of pie’ phase,” he seethed, pushing past Castiel and slamming a piece of crumpled, dirty paper on the table. “You are gonna read this, and you are gonna go and talk to Dean like a fuckin’  _adult_ . I am sick and tired of your crap, so get it together before I beat it into you!”

At that precise moment, Gabriel walked in, brushing flour off his shirt. “Sup, broski!” He halted at the sight of Bobby. “Um. Hi?”

Bobby, barely concealing his impatience, grunted and gestured at the bewildered looking Castiel. “You let him just run away after they finally got somewhere with each other? I woulda thought you knew better than that!”

Gabriel rolled his eyes. “Hey, he’s a big boy now! And he said Deano didn’t even want to kiss him, so I’m not really seeing your point here.”

Throwing his hands in the air, Bobby moaned. “I’m too old for this. _He_ –“ here he pointed at Castiel, who looked terrified “-thinks he kissed Dean. Dean thinks he kissed Castiel. Both of them think the other hates them. I’m going home. You-“ once more he sent a sharp glare at Castiel, who recoiled slightly “read _this_.” And after throwing the paper at Castiel, Bobby left. Gabriel stared at his younger brother.

“Are you fucking kidding me? I’d just installed my Wii Fit when you dragged us out of there!”

“Shut up, Gabriel,” Castiel said absently as he scanned the piece of paper. His eyes widened when he realised what it was, and his heart stuttered when he saw Dean’s scratchy writing, underneath the wrinkles and ink blots that defaced it.

**Reasons Why I Absolutely Should Not Love Castiel Novak:**

  1. **He could probably kick my ass (Not that I’d ever tell him)**
  2. **He turns into a frigging octopus when he’s asleep and drapes himself all over me ~~not that I mind~~   ~~it’s kind of cute~~   **
  3. **He called me an asshole**
  4. **H** **e knows how to insult me without even saying the insult out loud like what the hell**
  5. **He’s really smart**
  6. **He’s way out of my league**
  7. **He stole my AC/DC shirt and wears it ALL THE TIME ~~it looks really good on him~~   ~~he could wear all my clothes~~   ~~I’d rather he was naked~~**
  8. **He hadn’t seen Star Wars until I showed him**
  9. **Or Star Trek**
  10. **Or like. Anything.**
  11. **That stupid fucking squint he does when he doesn’t get something and tilts his head like a confused cat ~~it’s adorable~~**
  12. **H** **alf the time he doesn’t get irony**
  13. **Or metaphors**
  14. **He has milk in his coffee**
  15. **He’s a pissy bitch in the mornings and ~~when he scowls I want to kiss him even more~~ needs to take the stick out of his ass**
  16. **He probably still loves Balthazar**
  17. **Fuck Balthazar**
  18. **His brother is an asshole ~~I’ve learned to live with it~~**
  19. **When he explains stuff when he’s teaching a subject he loves his eyes shine and it’s really fucking distracting**
  20. **Like who the hell needs that in their life ~~ME~~**
  21. **He let me tell him about Sammy and didn’t think I was a freak or a bad person**
  22. **He can’t do his own damn tie properly**
  23. **I’m too dumb for him**
  24. **He’s a cat person. I’m allergic to cats ~~but I could always take antihistamines if he wanted a cat~~**
  25. **His hands feel really nice when he holds me and helps me sleep at night**
  26. **He says the weirdest shit in his sleep**
  27. **~~He has a really great ass~~**
  28. **~~He has a really great EVERYTHING~~**
  29. **He calls me out on my bullshit unnecessarily ~~okay maybe I need it sometimes~~**
  30. **He knows nothing about cars (seriously I caught him trying to put diesel in a petrol engine once?? HOW IS HE ALIVE)**
  31. **He told me to put seatbelts in Baby**
  32. **He told me I should see a therapist about Sam and my nightmares ~~I think he was right but I can’t do this alone I see Sam all the time and it   hurts~~  when it’s none of his damn business**
  33. **~~I need him~~**
  34. **I love him because of all that**
  35. **FUCK**
  36. **I LOVE HIM**



After that, the page was simply a blotch of messy, angry lines and holes punched into the paper by the point of a pen. Castiel didn’t realise he was gripping it quite so tightly until a teardrop ran off the edge of his nose and landed on it, blurring the words “seatbelts in Baby” slightly. He forced himself to lose the white-knuckled grip he had and wipe his eyes, bringing a concerned-looking Gabriel into focus.

“Um, you okay there?” Gabriel asked tentatively. Castiel, throat tight, nodded.

“I just….I need to write something,” he said vaguely, gesturing with the hand that still held Dean’s list. Gabriel nodded uncertainly.

“Well if you need anything, I’ll be watching Gossip Girl over there.”

Castiel sat at the rickety motel table, chewing his pen. He closed his eyes briefly, opening them to see the rain on the far horizon, and set pen to paper.

**Reasons why I, Castiel Novak, am in love with Dean Winchester even though I probably shouldn’t be.**

* * *

The sky looked vaguely ominous when Dean woke up to a still-empty home. He shuffled around, rummaging through his kitchen cupboards only to find all of his whiskey bottles were empty. Sighing, he filled a glass with water and sipped at it slowly, attempting to alleviate the fog in his brain.

_“That’s so attractive, Dean. All wrapped up in a blanket, sipping water? How fucking pathetic,”_ Sam sneered from over by the fridge _. “Imagine how proud Mom and Dad would be, knowing their oldest son is-“_

“GET OUT OF MY HEAD!” Dean yelled, and he grabbed the empty bottle beside him and hurled it at the space Sam had just been in. The glass shattered and rained down on the floor, and Dean sank down against the wall, burying his face in his hands.

* * *

He’d managed to stand up, drink more water and brush his teeth after another half hour, clearing his head and getting rid of the fuzzy feeling in his mouth. Dean swept up the shards of glass, minding his hands, to the sounds of Aerosmith blasting from his speakers over the low rumble of thunder outside.

There was a quiet knock at the door – so quiet he almost didn’t hear it. Dean cautiously approached his front door, ready to bolt. He edged it open a crack, and at the sight he saw the door simply fell open, Dean losing his grip in astonishment.

Castiel Novak stood on his porch, soaking wet from the rain that poured relentlessly down and looking like he would rather be on the other side of the planet.

“Hello, Dean.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A lot of you all said basically the same thing ("WHY WAS THIS SO SAD IT WAS MEANT TO BE PERFECT AND GLORIOUS") so i'm not gonna bother responding individually, (also I have a headache so I'm feeling lazy and dinner soon) but I APOLOGISE PROFUSELY HERE IS MORE STUFF I'M WORKING ON THE NEXT ONE RIGHT NOW SO HOPEFULLY THAT'LL BE UP SOON AND I CAN HAVE THIS FIC FINISHED WAY EARLIER THAN I ORIGINALLY PLANNED.
> 
> Thank you all so much for your comments though the response was insane and really made my day seeing how many people actually care about the crap I write. 
> 
> Additionally, I sort of have a "Dean's sad music/break up playlist" thing that I can tack on to the end of next chapter if anyone wants that? It's pretty much a compilation of songs I can picture Dean getting drunk and emotional to while thinking about Castiel.


	17. Apologies and Another List

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Took slightly longer than expected - I was updating some fics on ffn.net. Second to last chapter! Hopefully I will have the epilogue up by Monday, which will round off everything nicely.

Dean looked like shit. Castiel wanted nothing more than to wrap his arms around him and take care of him for the rest of his life, but Dean was already backing away, looking like a startled animal faced with a cannon.

“Um…I don’t….” he stammered. Castiel moved closer, water dripping off the end of his nose as he did so.

“Dean-“

“You –“ Dean slammed the door.

However, Castiel simply hammered on the wet wood again, refusing to give up.

“Go away!” came a muffled voice. “I can’t see you!” It sounded like Dean was beginning to cry again, judging by the sounds Castiel could hear. He took a deep breath.

“You drool in your sleep!” he yelled. There was a pause, the sound of a doorknob turning, and Dean peered through the gap between door and frame. Immediately Castiel met his eyes and ignored the nerves in his stomach.

“You drool in your sleep,” he repeated. “You have the same sense of humour as a child does, and you have an unhealthy obsession with pie, it’s a borderline fetish. You have incredibly low self-esteem, and seem to think that just because you have seen a film, everyone has. Your lack of seatbelts in your car is quite frankly alarming considering you also have a tendency to drive recklessly, and it makes me think that you have zero regard for your own personal safety which upsets me greatly. You love kid’s movies. You make amazing food. You love your job and the students you teach. You aren’t afraid to speak your mind, which I find admirable, and you always do whatever you can to ensure the people you care about are happy. Your taste in music is somewhat predictable but faultless, and you sing along to all your favourite songs loudly and badly. You cleared out an entire room just so a man you hated could have a place to live, and when my brother showed up you didn’t hesitate to sacrifice your own space for our comfort. You never expect anything from anyone. You listened to my story about my family and you didn’t judge me. You….” Here he stumbled over his words slightly, because Dean was opening the door even wider with an expression of stunned disbelief radiating through his red eyes and tear stained cheeks. “You have a pair of pink satin panties, and when I walked in and caught a glimpse of your ass in them I had to physically stop myself from jumping you.” He blushed and looked down at the sodden paper in his hands before continuing. “You were increasingly irresistible to me even when I was still dating Balthazar. When you sleep in the same bed as me and hold me at night, even though I know we aren’t even a couple, I see forever.” Dean was crying now and so was Castiel, shivering in the cold rain while thunder crackled and lightning flashed overhead. “You take your coffee black and make me breakfast every morning and you’re so willing to put up with my bitchiness even if sometimes it’s directed at you even though I don’t mean it. I’m in love with you, Dean, and I don’t know how not to be anymore.”

Dean stepped out into the rain. “Cas,” he said hoarsely, and then he reached out at the same time as Castiel, and then they were kissing, tears mixing with the rain on their skin and sliding between their parted lips. Dean gave a small sob as he kissed Castiel desperately, running his tongue along the seam between their mouths and finally allowing himself to taste the man he had been craving. His hands, which had been cupping the back of Castiel’s head gently, slid down to the man’s hips, pulling him closer. Castiel gave a small whimper when Dean’s tongue breached his mouth, and he allowed it to enter, gently touching it with his own as his own hands fiercely pulled the taller man in for more by the back of his neck. The chilled water sliding down their necks paled in comparison to the feel of finally being able to hold one another, of being able to love one another and show it. Fingers tangled in hair as slick mouths slid together, drawing out a breathless gasp from Dean as he pulled back slightly, just enough to murmur “I love you,” against Castiel’s kiss-swollen lips with a smile. Castiel chased his mouth hungrily with his own, unable to quell his desire to claim Dean’s mouth and keep him forever.

“I love you,” he whispered back, smiling against the plush mouth and swallowing Dean’s disbelieving look as he kissed him once more. The pair of them could have happily stood there for hours, saying the words they never thought they would be able to say in the breathy gasps between the press of mouths, in the gentle pressure of tongues, and in the close of their mouths as they breathed the words into each other without needing to use words. However, Castiel suddenly reeled back with a look of horror, buried his face in his sleeve, and sneezed forcefully. He looked at Dean with wide, shocked eyes.

“That was not intentional.”

For the first time in over a week, Dean smiled. He then frowned. "Wait, where did you get all that crap from anyway?" 

Castiel looked decidedly guilty. "Bobby visited me. He um. He showed me something you had written. So I wrote something similar." He then held up a sodden piece of paper, that had the ink mostly blurred. If Dean squinted, he could just make out the words;  **Reasons why I, Castiel Novak, am in love with Dean Winchester even though I probably shouldn't be.**

He looked at Castiel, who was blushing, and took his free hand. "Come inside, you need some dry clothes."

Castiel followed him inside, the weather still beating a tattoo into the town.

* * *

“Jesus fucking Christ man did you walk here?!” Dean asked, hurrying Castiel up the stairs and into the bathroom. Castiel dripped onto the tiles and shrugged.

“Gabriel was busy. And it couldn’t – _ACHOONF!_ – wait,” he replied, and with his next sneeze his entire body shook. “I wanted to see you,” he ended feebly as Dean handed him a towel. Dean swallowed thickly.

“Well, here I am,” he said. “And uh, you’re gonna have to change your clothes. I’ll just….grab you some.” He shuffled out of the room, glancing back with wide eyes as if making sure Castiel was actually there, living and breathing in his bathroom. “I’ll be right back,” he added unnecessarily.

Castiel stood on the bath mat, dripping. He picked at his clothing, before peeling off his soaked shirt and draping it over the side of the bath hesitantly. He did the same with his jeans, and only turned back to the door when he heard a cut off gasp. Dean stood in the doorway, carefully averting his eyes and holding out a dry t-shirt and jeans.

“Um. Here,” he said gruffly. Castiel’s chills were exacerbated by the brief touch of fingers to his as he took the clothes from Dean, and Dean offered him a shy smile. “I’d offer you food but uhh…I don’t really….” He shrugged.

Castiel raised his eyebrows. “You ran out of food?”

Dean ran a calloused hand through his hair and avoided Castiel’s gaze, scratching at the week old scruff on his cheek. “Few days ago, yeah. Couldn’t be bothered getting more. I’m….I’m not so great, Cas.” He looked down guiltily. “Sorry.”

Castiel took in a deep breath. “Dean, I’m here. I came back. I’m never leaving again. Go downstairs and get some blankets together so that once I have showered I can join you on the couch and we can just….watch Star Wars. Okay?”

Dean gave a small, helpless smile. “Yeah, okay.”

As he turned to leave, Castiel stopped him. "Dean?"

He looked back. "Yeah?"

Castiel's voice was small when he spoke. "I am truly sorry. I never....I didn't want to hurt you. I never want to hurt you." His enormous eyes were beseeching as he gazed at Dean, who softened.

"I know, Cas. I'm sorry too."

He loped down the hallway blushing, and Castiel turned on the shower, letting it heat up into Mordor-level temperatures while he called Gabriel.

“Castiel! Why aren’t you aggressively fucking yet??” Gabriel chided him. Castiel pinched the bridge of his nose.

“I need a favour. Can you go to the store and get a couple of hundred dollars worth of groceries and bring them here?” Castiel spoke quietly, not wanting to be overheard by Dean. He could almost hear Gabriel rolling his eyes.

“What? He not got enough ingredients for a PB&J or somethin’?”

“Gabriel, he doesn’t have food, period. Just get as much as possible and bring it here and I’ll pay you back. Please? He’s….he’s not good, Gabriel,” and here Castiel was holding back tears. “He needs help.”

Gabriel’s tone became serious. “I’ll do what I can.” As he hung up, Castiel had the presence of mind to cry out “NO TWIZZLERS OR CANDY FLOSS!”

* * *

There was a banging on the front door. Dean glared at it from where he sat on the couch. The banging continued. He cast a glance upstairs, where the sound of Castiel showering and singing “Keep On Loving You” (Dean had never loved him more) – badly – could clearly be heard, before getting up and opening the front door in his pajamas and wrapped in a fluffy blanket, ready to punch whoever it was.

Gabriel grinned at him cheekily from the porch, arms laden with bags from the grocery store.

“Hello!”

“What.”

Dean stared at him, hair sticking up at all angles. Gabriel shoved past him and dumped the bags on the table before heading back to his car for the rest of them.

“You look like shit,” he commented, bustling through Dean’s home as if he owned the place. Dean scowled and tugged his blanket around him a little tighter.

“What the fuck are you doing?” he asked. Gabriel halted halfway through sticking a jar of jam in the empty fridge and looked at him.

“What does it look like, assface? Restocking your food supply. You haven’t eaten in what looks like days, let someone help you out.” He continued to shove food into Dean’s cupboard, and Dean stared before turning back and sitting down on the couch. A couple of minutes later, Castiel came downstairs, hair damp and dressed in Dean’s clothes.

“Did you call him?” Dean demanded, pointing at Gabriel. Castiel looked at him.

“Yes,” he stated flatly.

“Why?!”

“Why do you think?! Dean, you need serious help. You’ve barely been sleeping, you haven’t been eating, and you’ve been non-stop drinking from what Bobby told me. Please, let me do this. Get some help,” Castiel’s voice cracked as he spoke and he looked at Dean helplessly, eyes full of despair.

Any protests he had died on Dean’s tongue when he saw how close to tears Castiel was, and he sighed. “Yeah, okay. Can we…can we do this tomorrow?” he asked. “I’m so…ugh, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry Cas.” Tears filled his eyes and he sagged back onto the couch, willing himself not to break down once more. Castiel was instantly at his side, hand on his shoulder.

“Dean, don’t apologise. Why don’t we just go upstairs and sleep?” he said gently. Dean nodded, and Castiel turned to where Gabriel was just finishing sticking several packs of bacon in the fridge. “Gabriel, are you…?”

“He can stay and chill here if he wants,” Dean mumbled. The two brothers exchanged glances and Gabriel shrugged.

“Yeah, may as well. I might just drive over to the motel and bring our stuff back here if that’s okay?” he asked, in a much kinder tone than normal. Dean looked at them both.

“Yeah. Please.” He whispered, and Castiel dragged him up the stairs.

* * *

Dean’s bed was even comfier than Castiel remembered. He lay in the semi-darkness, arms around Dean as he watched the other man sleep. The play of shadows on Dean’s face was entrancing; Castiel lightly sketched out each line with the pad of his index finger, heart warming at the smile on Dean’s face as he mumbled in his sleep and pulled Castiel closer, nuzzling into the skin of his chest. There was a small trail of drool just on the precipice of beginning a journey down Dean's chin, and Castiel wiped it away with a smile.

“Oh, Dean,” he sighed, running his fingers through the dark blonde hair tucked beneath his chin. “I love you.”

And with that, he allowed himself to follow Dean into the best night’s sleep he’d had in a while, still locked within Dean’s arms even as he refused to let go of Dean.

Downstairs, Gabriel rolled his eyes and threw popcorn at the TV screen.

* * *

NOTES: [Dean Winchester's Break Up Playlist Link](https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLiSxGUStFy2DIBXUhAMGNzkAPkDlZzCrk) - just click it, it should work. Thanks to everyone who requested it! That is partly why this chapter took a bit longer than expected - I was putting this together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm lazy so I'm not going to respond to each comment individually (sorry) but please keep them coming - they're all so well thought out and responsive and it really means a lot to me even though I suck at showing it. So thank you. Someone said something about crying so I am really sorry about that, I'm hoping this makes up for it. 
> 
> Please leave comments and kudos!


	18. Dean isn't crazy, he just wants his damn epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> FINAL CHAPTER  
> FINALLY  
> I AM SO FREAKING SORRY YOU HAVE NO IDEA.  
> I know, I said this would be posted like last week or whatever but I started writing it and then had no fucking clue what to write and I was like "I know I'll come back to it tomorrow" AND THEN NOTHING CAME TO MY BRAIN. It was awful. I hope this makes up for it, there's slight porn (finally ahahaha sorry). Also I was writing my DCBB and I wrote basically the entire thing (at least 18K of it) within the past two days, and I moved out of my house and into the uni housing, which involved an 8 hour drive and staying in a place with no internet for three days (I don't know how I managed). But yeah, I start uni next week so this is the final chapter. More notes at the bottom being all emotional and shit.

Waking up to Castiel’s sleeping face had never been sweeter. Dean blinked his eyes open sleepily, realising that his sleep had been entirely unencumbered by nightmares as he looked up from where his head lay on Castiel’s chest. Above him, Castiel gave a faint frown and Dean felt a strong arm tighten around him as the other man mumbled “my unicorn…”

Dean grinned and snuggled (incredibly manfully) back down, curling his entire body around Castiel’s and pressing tiny kisses to the skin he found there. “Your unicorn,” he whispered back, because if Castiel wanted him to be a unicorn, Dean would damn well be a unicorn. He went back to sleep, soothed by the sounds of Castiel’s wordless mumbles that sent deep rumbles through his chest.

* * *

“Deeeean…”

“Mmf.”

“Deeeeeean….”

“Ngfl.”

“Deeeeeeeeeeeeean……..”

Dean cracked open an eyelid to glare grumpily at Castiel, who was carding his fingers through Dean’s hair. Castiel beamed at him.

“Good morning Dean.”

“You bastard,” Dean growled out without any real malice, having melted into the soft touch Castiel was providing the instant he woke up.

Castiel pouted. “You don’t mean that,” he said, although his voice had a faint tinge of fear to it. Dean smiled, assuaging Castiel’s doubts, and shuffled up the mattress so that he could kiss Castiel.

“Nah, you’re alright,” he murmured against Castiel’s mouth with a smile, before kissing him sweetly. When Castiel went to deepen the kiss, Dean pulled back, shaking his head. “Nah uh, morning breath. Gross.”

There was a small whine that managed to escape Castiel, but he agreed, sinking back into the memory foam. The moment didn’t last long, however, as he was abruptly pulled from the bed by an enthusiastic Winchester, squeaking “ _Dean!_ ” as the man in question pulled him to the bathroom to brush their teeth together.

They were halfway through slowly making out in the bathroom after brushing their teeth, smiles on their faces, when there was a low grumble. Dean looked down in his stomach in shock.

“That hasn’t happened in a while,” he said, and Castiel frowned.

“I’m making you food,” he said, and dragged Dean into the kitchen. Soon enough, he was moving around the kitchen with an easy familiarity that made Dean’s heart clench, and then feeding Dean a piece of dried toast. Dean looked from the toast to Castiel with a quizzical look. Castiel sighed.

“Dean, you haven’t eaten properly in over a week. You need to ease back into it or you’ll just throw it all back up, and that would kind of kill the romance.”

Dean bit the toast cautiously, speeding up when his stomach decided yes, dry toast was the best thing in the world, and he ate it in 3 bites before beaming at Castiel.

“Is there more?” he asked, and Castiel sighed before handing over two more slices, before pouring himself some coffee. The entire time he drank, he kept an eye on Dean, ensuring that Dean was actually eating what was put before him. He settled his hands around the mug before him, and took a deep breath.

“Dean.”

“Mmf?” Dean managed to spray out a small shower of crumbs when he answered, and he offered Castiel a bread-laden smile, which Castiel only caught a glimpse of before he stared into the mug at the soaked granules that gathered at the bottom. Dean swallowed. “Cas, what is it?”

“I think you need to talk to someone. About….everything.” Castiel chanced a glance at Dean and saw how his face had frozen. “Dean, you know what I mean.”

“You mean a shrink?” Dean’s voice was slow and shaking.

“Dean, that’s not what I-“

“I’m not crazy!” Dean said as he stared at Castiel beseechingly. Castiel shook his head.

“I know you’re-“

“Look, I’m fine, okay?” The AutoShop teacher stood up and glared. “Just stop, okay?” Just. Stop.” He went to walk out, but Castiel stood and followed, grabbing his arm and turning him so that Dean was facing him resentfully.

“Dean, I’m only going to say this once. _Shut the fuck up and listen to me._ I just want you to be happy and healthy, alright? And right now you’re not. Please, we all know there isn’t anything wrong with you. You aren’t crazy. You just need to talk to someone about your brother, about everything. I saw you having those nightmares, remember? And I’ve seen how you cope when someone leaves you – you don’t. When I saw you how you were yesterday, I…I don’t even want to think about it, Dean. It hurt. More than I can say. If you aren’t going to get help for your own sake, do it for me?” His blue eyes were enormous, imploring Dean to listen. The man in question relented, sagging slightly.

“What did you have in mind?”

Castiel gave a small, hopeful smile.

* * *

Dean really, really hated talking about his feelings. Especially to some douchebag who didn’t even _know_ him. Dr Henriksen gave him a pointed look over the top of his glasses and sighed.

“Look, Mr Winchester, I can’t help you if you don’t talk to me. And I know you don’t wanna be wasting your money on an hour of sitting down and glaring at me. So. Tell me about Sam.”

Dean gave up and took a deep breath, staring at his hands.

“I let him down.”

“What do you mean?”

“I was meant to look after him.” Dean twisted his hands anxiously, wishing he were anywhere but that chair.

“Why?”

“It’s my job to look after Sammy.” Still not looking up, Dean bit his lip, refusing to let the swell of tears fall. “Dad said so.”

Dean spent the next hour in Dr Henriksen’s office, managing to tell at least a little bit of his and Sam’s story to the man before leaving, walking outside and catching sight of Castiel dozing in the Impala’s driver seat, a pair of reading glasses about to slide off the end of his nose. He bent down and rapped sharply on the window, grinning when Castiel jerked awake and dropped the book that had been resting in his limp hand. “Hey, stranger. Thought I told you to go home?”

“Dean?” Castiel blinked sleepily, stretching and yawning as he unlocked the car to let Dean slide into the passenger seat. “I wanted to wait here. I had a book; I didn’t want to abandon you.” He interrupted himself with another yawn, and Dean took the opportunity to seize the book from the footwell.

“You’re reading Vonnegut?”

Castiel shrugged and plucked the books from his hands. “I thought I might give it a try, you’re always talking about how good his books are.” He went to start the car, but Dean caught his hands and brought them onto his lap before leaning in and kissing Castiel.

“You have no idea how perfect you are,” he murmured, smiling. Castiel smiled and kissed him back.

“Well, you’re letting me drive the Impala, so I have a vague notion,” he teased, putting the car into gear and pulling out of the parking lot.

They held hands the entire way home, Dean’s thumb gently stroking the skin of Castiel’s hand.

* * *

Six months later, Dean’s nightmares had all but stopped. Gabriel had gone on one of his ‘weekend excursions’ – they refused to ask, but Castiel had strong suspicions concerning the nudist commune a few hours’ drive away – and the pair of them had the house to themselves. They’d slept in the same bed every night still, but hadn’t really gone further than kissing and the odd above-the-waist grope, and hadn’t said “I love you” since the day Castiel showed up on the porch in the rain.

As they were watching “The Dark Knight”, curled up under a blanket on the couch, Dean noticed Castiel’s hand slowly inching its way under the gap where Dean’s shirt met the top of his jeans. He smiled to himself, shifting so that rather than lying with his back pressed against Castiel and Castiel’s arm looping over his shoulder, he was now on his side, giving Castiel much better access. Castiel hummed happily and Dean sneaked a hand up the History teacher’s firm torso, brushing the hardening nipples beneath the cotton of Castiel’s t-shirt as he gently took Castiel’s chin and tilted it towards himself. Castiel seemed to get the idea as they stared at each other, and dipped his head down so that his lips met Dean’s, the both of them relaxing into the kiss. One hand fumbled for the remote and tapped the mute button, the sounds of the Joker’s cackle shutting off and being replaced by the quiet rustle of movement. Dean pushed himself upwards so that he ended up slinging a leg over Castiel, grunting slightly with the effort, and straddling him, tilting his head and opening his mouth to allow his tongue to brush against his boyfriend’s (Dean hated the word, but when he thought about it in conjunction with Castiel, his insides did a backflip and he found himself smiling, so he rolled with it). Castiel moaned appreciatively, hands grasping Dean’s backside and pulling him closer while he kneaded the tender muscles there.

The film was entirely forgetten, the only sound in the room quiet gasps and deep moans rumbling from the two men as they kissed hungrily, bodies instinctively beginning to rut together.

Castiel’s scruff – a couple of days old (“Nice peach fuzz, Cas,” “Oh, you think so?” “….yeah. It’s um. Really uhh. Hot. Really, really hot.”) – rubbed against Dean’s cheek when he leaned in so that his torso was pressed right up against Castiel’s, no space left between them, and had his mouth perfectly positioned beside the other man’s jawline. Castiel’s chest rose and fell in time with Dean’s, the pair of them sighing in unison into one another’s ear.

“So perfect, Cas,” Dean whispered, and Castiel shivered. Dean was able to feel his cock twitching in his jeans in the space right beside Dean’s, and he hardened in his own jeans, grinding their groins together purposely and biting his lip as he felt himself become needier and more pliant in the other man’s hands. “God, that feels good. Need you so much…”

“Why are you still speaking in coherent sentences?” Castiel growled, and _oh yeah_ , that was naturally what made Dean’s erection perk up to full mast. He felt – _finally_ – the other man’s hands roam under his shirt, feeling the smooth, rolling muscles, and when he felt his hands dip below his waistline into the backs of his jeans, he looked down into Castiel’s eyes as he moved atop him with his hands gripping his shoulders for balance, and smirked.

Castiel found out why a split second later.

 _What? That’s not……no. Is he…?_ Castiel looked up at Dean with wide, lust-blown pupils, on the verge of whining from the sudden surge of renewed lust thrumming through his veins. Dean stared back at the man, drinking in the sight of the History teacher looking thoroughly debauched – hair sticking out in all directions, blue eyes almost black and glazed over, lips parted and cheeks bright. Inching his hands around to the front of Dean, Castiel plucked at the thin satin elastic he had discovered underneath the denim, and raised his eyebrows.

“Dean? What do you have to say about these?”

And _yes, please,_ the commanding tone was edging its way into Castiel’s voice, leaving Dean an almost incoherent mess of want and need. He began to move more quickly, cock twitching against the silky confines and making him even harder.

“Wanted…you,” he whimpered. “Wanted to – _fuck_ – be pretty – _oh please touch me there_ –feel pretty – for – for you.” He threw his head back when Castiel went back to massaging his ass, letting out a low keen. “ _Caaaaaas._ ”

Castiel had to bite back his own whimper at the sight, running his hands all over every inch of Dean available and taking in the fact that Dean was this desperate for _him_. “Beautiful, Dean,” he whispered. “You’re beautiful. God, the things I want to – _oh my god yes_ – want to do to you – you have no idea.”

“Tell me, Cas,” Dean begged, still gyrating on him, now moving his hips in circles and bringing the both of them closer and closer to the edge. “Tell me what you want. Tell me I – _mmmmm_ – tell me I’m pretty enough for you. Tell me you want me.” He spoke without embarrassment, lost in the feeling of Castiel holding him, of Castiel wanting him just as badly as he wanted Castiel. His sensitive balls brushed against the silken fabric of his underwear, making him let out uncontrollable whimpers as he felt it graze the head of his cock.“Tell me you need me, too.”

“Oh, Dean. You…I would lay you out and take you apart, piece by piece. I would take your cock in one hand and with the other I would slowly begin to finger you while I worshipped every part of your body with my mouth, making you come undone with every second that passed. I would make you feel as pretty as you want to be, as lovely as I see you every day. I’d fuck into you while you still wore those panties, make you scream my name and mess that pretty underwear with your come, looking like the fucking beautiful, perfect, gorgeous man that you are. I’d come inside you, mark you up with my teeth and my lips and my tongue, tell you that you’re mine just as much as I am yours, that I need you. I’d make you mine forever, because I am in love with you, Dean.” Castiel panted against Dean’s mouth, startling himself with his own coherency at this point, the pair of them making the couch itself scrape across the carpet with the force of their thrusting against each other. At his words, Dean’s balls tightened and he came with a cry inside his pants, cock twitching violently as he collapsed onto Castiel, babbling without his brain even registering what he was saying. Castiel came a few seconds later, fingers digging into Dean’s backside as he felt every inch of Dean’s orgasm through the denim that separated them. His back arched, and he dug his teeth into the firm meat of Dean’s shoulder as he rode it out. Feeling Dean hold him even more tightly as they slumped back on the couch together, Castiel wrapped his arms around the other man and turned their bodies so that they lay on the couch together, legs tangled and the film still playing silently. The blue eyed man was now half on top of Dean, one hand holding him tightly against Castiel’s body while the other cradled the face he was now staring into adoringly. Dean gave a tentative smile back, and that was the only cue Castiel needed to lean down and kiss him gently. Dean found the strength to push up into the kiss, mapping out the feeling of Castiel’s kiss-swollen lips with his own as they both smiled.

“I love you, Dean. So much – it scares me sometimes,” he admitted. Dean appeared to relax slightly.

“I love you, too. I – fuck, I don’t even know how to say it, you know? I just…ehhhhh, you know? Want it forever, and stuff. Just. Shuddup,” he finished with a mumble, hiding his face in the crook of Castiel’s neck. “Stop looking at me like that. I can feel it, you asshole.”

“Like what?” Castiel asked, amused. “Like that was the best sex of my life, even though it was literally just you dry-humping me like we were teenagers? Like I’m completely head over heels for you? Because it’s true.” He punctuated his words with kissed to Dean’s exposed neck, occasionally nipping the skin and making Dean’s entire body convulse within his arms. “Come on, let’s go upstairs. I’ll look after you.”

“If you think I’ll be able to get it up straight after that, you have another thing coming. If you can get it up straight away, I either didn’t do my job properly or you have fucking superpowers,” Dean grumbled, not moving. Castiel snorted.

“I didn’t mean that. I meant you, me, shower, sleep. Unless you’d rather sleep on the couch in your dirty clothes and wake up with a cramp in your neck, which is what happens every time you tried sleeping on the couch.” He poked Dean’s sides, and Dean twitched, his flailing causing him to roll off the couch and land on the abandoned blanket with a thump. He glared up at Castiel, who was wearing a satisfied grin.

“You’re an asshole.”

“I’m _your_ asshole,” Castiel retorted, then frowned. “Wait.”

“Does that mean that if I tell you to go fuck yourself, it makes _me_ come? Because I am totally down for that.”

“Shut up and get naked with me.”

After a warm, steamy shower, Dean – despite his earlier protests – once again being reduced to a quivering mess under Castiel’s ministrations, came with a gasp and a choked-out moan against the blue-eyed man, held safely in the cocoon of Castiel’s arms. Castiel soon followed suit, making good on his promise to mark Dean up when he came all over Dean’s waiting stomach and legs. The shower washed away the traces, but Dean could still feel it, and he could still feel it later when they lay in bed together, hugging one another tightly.

“Love you, Cas,” Dean burbled sleepily, head on Castiel’s chest.

Castiel smiled and kissed the mess of dark blonde hair, eyes sliding shut.

“Love you too, Dean.”

* * *

It isn’t necessary to tell you how Gabriel came home the next morning, bursting into their room with a loud cry of “CASSIE, I’M HOO – _FOR THE LOVE OF FUCKERY PUT SOME CLOTHES ON YOU ASSHOLES I JUST GOT BACK FROM A NUDIST COLONY I DID NOT ASK TO SEE MY BROTHER’S JUNK!”_

It isn’t necessary to tell you about how the made love almost every night, guiding one another through it – the time Dean cried because finally, _finally_ someone made him feel like he was worthy of what Castiel was saying to him; the time Castiel fucked into him so hard Dean came untouched, literally could not walk straight for a week, was barely able to allow Castiel to brush his prostate without coming because of how sensitive it had made him for a couple of days, and was eternally grateful for his natural bow-leggedness that concealed the majority of it; the time Gabriel walked in on Dean riding Castiel into next week wearing nothing but a cowboy hat and pink satin panties and screeched for the millionth time that he was moving out (he never made good on that threat); or the time Castiel did exactly what he’d promised he would do to Dean and made love to him so well that the pair of them were unable to move for several minutes as they clung to each other, letting slip a few silent tears from the emotions that were bottled up inside.

It isn’t necessary to tell you about how Dean was able to give Sam, Mary and John the memories they deserved, putting them behind him and moving on, but never forgetting them. Castiel visited their graves with him, allowing Dean to cry when he introduced Castiel to the slabs of stone that didn’t do the vibrant people who lay beneath them any justice.

It isn’t necessary to tell you about the fight that shook the house and made Missouri and Rufus watch with wide eyes as Dean stormed out into the night, tears running down his face while Castiel chased him down the street, sobbing as he begged him to come back. He did – an hour later, misery etched into every line of his face before throwing himself into Castiel’s arms and crying out “I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” Missouri watched with a mug of tea as Castiel guided him back into the house, and when Rufus raised his eyebrows, she merely raised them back. He said nothing.

And it probably isn’t necessary to tell you about how Dean came home late one day to find Castiel in the kitchen in his battered tuxedo, clutching a bunch of roses nervously and stammering with nerves as he shyly asked Dean to marry him. Dean totally didn’t cry when he said yes. At all. (He totally did – Gabriel took pictures).

Yeah, it’s not really necessary to tell you guys all that stuff.

Or is it?

* * *

 **NOTES:**  Here have some art stuff:

  

 

From my amazing friend [katielou101](http://katielou101.tumblr.com/) <\---- that's her tumblr, go follow her! If you can't read the words, [here's](http://secretlyademigodinthetardis.tumblr.com/post/89331790017/awesome-fanart-from-katielou101-for-my-destiel) the tumblr post with it on as well, and [here's](http://secretlyademigodinthetardis.tumblr.com/post/91145512922/guys-i-finished-writing-novak-vs-winchester-heres) another tumblr post about it that I literally just made.  

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TELL ME WHAT YOU THINK  
> Again, I am so so so sorry I didn't post this sooner. I'm thinking of turning this into a 'verse (The Many Porny Adventures of Teacher!Dean and Teacher!Castiel being one name for it that springs to mind, to make up for the lack of outright sex in this, but anywho), so give me some feedback please. Also, if I do, it won't be with regular updates because I'll have uni to focus on and I have no idea when I'll even post it so you should totally just subscribe to me and read my other stuff and find me on ffn.net and tumblr with the same username. I'll also post my DCBB up here on this site when I can, and that's about it.
> 
> This fic has been my number one WIP for the past few months, and it's had the most effort put into it. That's because of the amazing response I got for it, and I honestly was not expecting that, so thank you, and thank you again for your encouragement and feedback because that's what motivates me to actually write this shit and get this finished. 
> 
> Everyone who said how perfect Castiel's speech was and how awesome last chapter was - yeah, I've been wanting to write a scene like that for so long and I'm so fucking happy with how it turned out ahh I'm just gonna have a moment to appreciate myself. (And check out the playlist I made here's the link again: https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLiSxGUStFy2DIBXUhAMGNzkAPkDlZzCrk )
> 
> So yeah, follow me and stuff because that'd be pretty cool and would give me a massive ego boost and motivate me to write stuff, feel free to PM me on my tumblr and give me fic recs or fic ideas or just say hi :)
> 
> IF THERE ARE ANY CONTINUITY ERRORS AT ALL THAT YOU HAVE FOUND OR SPELLING OR GRAMMAR MISTAKES PLEASE FOR THE LOVE OF ALL THAT IS RIGHT IN THIS WORLD TELL ME I HATE IT WHEN I DO THAT AND I WANT IT TO BE PERFECT
> 
> And finally, think of every cliche possible when I say thank you for just reading this damn thing. Means a lot to me, honestly. The end. Ish.
> 
> Bonus: gifs of how I want them to wake up together:  
> http://24.media.tumblr.com/f105104805dcea5061247d32e256a26c/tumblr_mv4h3849FL1r2gypdo2_400.gif  
> http://25.media.tumblr.com/378d76035865358447caf97044eadc08/tumblr_mv4h3849FL1r2gypdo1_400.gif


	19. NOT A CHAPTER THIS IS A PSA

I HAVE STARTED THE TIMESTAMPS

THEY WILL BE PART OF THE "I couldn't resist" 'VERSE THAT THIS IS NOW A PART OF.

TAKE A LOOK, SUBSCRIBE TO IT/ME, TELL ME WHAT YOU THINK, GIVE ME KUDOS OR WHATEVER.

THANK YOU TO EVERYONE FOR YOUR OVERWHELMING RESPONSE AND FEEDBACK FOR THIS FIC, I HAVE NO IDEA HOW TO REACT TO IT.

EDIT: Found the post this entire fucking thing was inspired by: [here](http://couldntthinkofalegitname.tumblr.com/post/94994208458/waytoostrongforwaytoolong-deanfrost-at-my)

**Author's Note:**

> my tumblr: secretlyademigodinthetardis.tumblr.com


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